UC-NRLF 


B    M    Q3t.    b3t. 


THE  LIFE  OF  HOMER 


SNIDER 


The  Collected  Writings 

of  Denton  J.  Snider 


A   BIOGRAPHIC  OUTLINE 

OF 

HOMER 


On  one  and  other  side,  Trojan  and  Greek 
Set  all  on  hazard — and  I  am  come. 

Frown  on,  yon  Heavens,  effect  your  rage  with  speedl 
Sit,  Gods,  on  your  thrones  and  smile  at  Troy. 

Cry,  Trojans,  cry!  lend  me  ten  thousand  eyest 
And  I  will  fill  them  with  Prophetic  tears. 

Shakespeare. 


Denn  wer  wagte  mit  Gottern  den  Kampf—und  wer  mit  dem  Einen  [Homerus]? 
Doch  Homeride  zu  sein,  auch  nur  als  letzer,  ist  schon. 

Goethe. 


Quegli  e  Omero,  Poeta  sovrano. 
(Homer  is  he,  sovereign  poet.) 

Vidi  adunar  la  bella  scuola 
Di  quel  signer  delV  altissimo  canto 
Che  sovra  gli  altri,  com'  aquila,  vola, 

(/  saw  banded  together  the  beautiful  school 
Taught  by  the  lord  of  loftiest  song 
Whose  flight,  like  the  eagle's,  outsoars  all  the  rest  of  us.) 

Dante. 


A    BIOGRAPHIC    OUTLINE 
OF 

HOMER 

AS   HE   REVEALS   HIMSELF  IN    HIS    WORKS 


DENTON     J.    SNIDER 


IN    TWO    PARTS. 
PROSE    AND    V2..^5E 


MDCCCCXXII 

HE  WILLIAM    HARVEY    MINER    CO..   Inc. 

SAINT     LOUIS 


Copyrifllit  1922  by 
DENTON  J.  SNIDER 

All  rights  merved,  including  that  of 
translation  into  foreign  lac 
eluding  the  Scandinavian. 


4: 


iioimd  City  Press,  Inc 
SL  Louis 


HOMER'S  LIFE  LINES. 


CONTENTS 


Part  First. 

Page 

Introduction  7 

1.  The  Old  Trojan  War 12 

2.  To-day's  Trojan  War 24 

3.  Homeric  Backgrounds 32 

4.  Homer's  Mythus  of  Troy 49 

5.  Homer's  Other  Mythical  Sieges 63 

6.  Homer's  Historicity 69 

7.  Homer's  Biography 81 

I.     The  Achillean  Homer 88 

1.  The  Hero  as  National 92 

2.  The  Hero  as  Ethical 103 

3.  The  Hero's  Teacher-Phcenix Ill 

4.  Homer's  Religiosity 118 

M170819  ^"^ 


vi  HOMER'S  LIFELINES 

Page 

5.  Homer's  Zeus 125 

6.  Homer  in  Smyrna 136 

II.  The  Ulyssean  Homer 156 

1.  The  Homeric  Return 161 

2.  Homer's  Three  Poets 167 

3.  The  Homeric  Fate-Compeller 177 

4.  Homer's  Life  of  Ulysses 188 

III.  The  Chian  Homer 207 


Part  Second. 
HOMER  IN  CHIOS. 

An  epopee  in  ten  songs,  which  accepts  Chios  as 
Homer's  birthplace,  whither  the  poet  returns  when 
an  old  man  and  founds  a  school  of  his  singers 
known  as  the  Homerids. 

See  page  219,  etc.,  for  title  and  contents. 


Homer's  Life-Lines 


INTRODUCTION. 

Why  Homer  now,  after  more  than  twenty-five 
centuries?  Are  we  not  sated  with  the  real  blood- 
shed of  history,  without  adding  to  it  that  of  poetry  ? 
Need  we  go  back  to  Homer's  old  Troy  for  more 
war  when  we  have  had  enough  of  it  at  our  door? 
If  the  fighting  and  the  gore  were  the  only  or  the 
main  result,  then  Homer's  book  might  well  be 
closed  for  all  time.  But  there  is  something  else 
which  endures  in  Homer  and  keeps  him  more  alive 
to-day  than  ever  before.  To  find  and  to  appro- 
priate that  eternal  element  of  him  will  demand  a 
new  reading  of  his  work  in  the  light  of  present 
time. 

And  let  us  start  with  our  prime  proposition :  the 
Trojan  War  as  told  by  Homer  was  a  World-War. 
Indeed  the  first  World- War  we  may  well  deem  it, 

(vii) 


ydn:  I  ■-!-'''/  *,  i  iiOMEli*8  UFE-LINE8 

and  the  longest-lasting,  for  it  is  still  going  on  to-day 
in  the  same  place,  with  essentially  the  same  battle- 
line  and  the  same  combatants  (Greek  and  Ori- 
ental) fighting  for  the  same  ultimate  principle, 
whose  clash  now  involves  directly  and  indirectly 
the  two  opposite  hemispheres  of  our  globe.  Thus 
Homer  appears  the  earliest  and  remains  still  the 
best  recorder  of  that  deepest,  mightiest,  ever- 
recurring  conflict  between  Eastern  and  Western 
civilisation,  which  just  at  present  is  passing  into  a 
wholly  new  stage  of  its  evolution. 

Here  let  it  be  noted  that  in  the  foregoing  fact 
lies  the  fundamental  reason  of  Homer's  supreme 
worth  as  a  poet,* and  of  his  undying  renown.  He 
has  seized  upon  the  largest,  most  immortal  theme 
in  the  World's  History,  and  handled  it  in  the 
worthiest  and  loftiest  way.  Still  not  his  verse,  not 
his  language,  not  his  descriptions,  nor  yet  his 
purely  literary  excellence  however  great,  are  the 
main  matter  for  his  right  appreciation;  it  is  his 
subject  in  all  its  grandeur  and  universality  which 
we  are  to  grasp  and  to  assimilate.  And  that  is 
what  vitally  connects  him  with  us  here  and  now, 
with  the  present  and  also  the  future. 

Not  many  months  ago  to-day's  reader  found  in 
his  morning  paper  an  item  of  news  somewhat  after 
the  following  purport: 

The  Greek  army  led  by  King  Constant  ine,  has 
moved  from  the  European  side  across  the  Egean, 
and  has  taken  position  on  the  battle-line  against 
the  Oriental  foe  arrayed  along  the  coast  and  inland 


INTRODUCTION 


IX 


of  Asia  Minor.  In  quite  the  same  terms  that  an- 
cient Trojan  expedition,  headed  by  King  Agamem- 
non, might  have  been  heralded,  not  by  the  printed 
page  but  by  swift-footed  messengers,  not  around 
the  globe  but  over  little  Hellas.  Still  further,  we 
learn  that  the  headquarters  of  this  last  expedition, 
from  which  the  assault  is  to  proceed,  will  be  located 
at  Smyrna,  distant  not  so  very  many  miles  from 
the  plain  of  Troy — the  scene  of  the  battles  of  the 
Iliad,  which  now  are  evidently  to  be  fought  over 
again,  not  in  the  old  but  in  the  modern  way.  Will 
this  new  Trojan  War  evoke  and  inspire  another 
Homer  as  its  singer?  The  first  one  has  told  the 
story  for  once  and  forever — so  for  us  too,  here  and 
iibw,  if  we  read  him  aright. 

Nor  should  we  forget  in  this  connection  that 
Smyrna  has  become  intimately  intergrown  with  the 
name  and  fame  of  Homer.  An  ancient  tradition 
has  handed  down  that  he  was  born  in  this  old 
Greek  city;  more  likely  is  the  statement  that  he 
passed  an  important  creative  portion  of  his  life 
there,  and  experienced  in  person  on  the  spot  the 
grand  perennial  conflict  between  Greek  and  Ori- 
ental, which  gives  the  basic  impulse,  and  content 
for  his  whole  work.  Quite  probable  it  becomes, 
though  not  directly  documented,  that  the  poet 
composed  his  Iliad  at  Smyrna  a  century  or  two 
after  the  Trojan  War,  for  this  city,  with  its  ever- 
present  outlook  upon  Troy,  must  have  been  the 
very  heart  of  the  enormously  prolific  Trojan  le- 
gend, from  which  the  poet  drew  both  material  and 


X  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

inspiration.  Thus  he  lived  in  and  partook  of  the 
early  creative  upgush  of  the  great  Tale  of  Troy, 
seemingly  the  most  persistent  and  influential  utter- 
ance of  its  kind  yet  recorded  in  literature. 

At  this  point  an  explanatory  gloss  may  be  set 
down.  Just  these  historic  events  occurring  to-day 
on  the  borderland  between  Europe  and  Asia,  are 
not  only  the  latest  but  the  best  interpretation  of 
Homer  in  his  true  and  ultimate  meaning.  What 
lay  primordially  in  his  spirit  and  its  song,  doubtless 
unconscious  and  embryonic,  we  may  now  behold 
bursting  into  light  more  clearly  than  ever  before. 
History  has  become  our  final  instructor  in  Homer 
as  it  is  in  so  much  else,  waking  him  up  into  a  new 
consciousness,  which  is  also  expressive  of  our  own 
age.  The  Wolfian  theory,  which  slashed  the  old 
poet  asunder  and  in  some  cases  anatomized  his 
living  body  into  quivering  gobbets,  has  run  its 
course,  and  will  soon  be  put  into  the  large  Homeric 
museum  of  dead  caprices  and  learned  curiosities. 
The  search  now  perceptibly  drives  in  the  other  di- 
rection: it  will  find  the  pervasive  psychological 
unity  which  winds  through  and  indeed  vivifies  both 
the  poet's  work  and  himself  in  his  work. 

Of  course  the  by  far  largest  part  of  the  writings 
about  Homer  (apart  from  textual  and  grammatical 
exegesis)  is  known  under  the  label  of  literary  crit- 
icism, which  for  the  most  part  deals  with  the  poet's 
beauties  of  expression,  with  his  vivid  story-telling 
art,  and  with  his  many-sided  skill  in  characterisa- 
tion.    Now  the  belletristic  charm   (as  It  may  be 


INTRODUCTION  xi 


termed)  of  Homer  is  certainly  not  to  be  neglected; 
we  may  well  agree  that  the  poet  is  not  the  poet 
unless  he  not  merely  employs  but  is  enraptured 
with  the  beautiful  form.  Still  when  this  form  has 
given  us  its  highest,  and  our  poetic  intoxication 
has  sobered  down  toward  reason,  we  begin  to  ask 
what  was  it  all  about  anyhow?  Practically  the 
usual  answer  runs  sneering:  only  an  old  border- 
feud  between  two  half  civilized  little  peoples  far 
off  yonder  in  Turkey.  Thus  the  What  is  contempt- 
ible, but  t?ie  How  is  the  world's  poetic  miracle. 

Now  this  complete  diversity  or  ratiier  abyss  be- 
tween the  poet's  theme  and  his  achievement,  or  in 
general  between  poetic  form  and  content,  the  pres- 
ent essay  of  ours  is  going  to  counter  as  best  it 
can,  deeming  the  same  an  absurdity  or  indeed  an 
impossibility.  Matthew  Arnold  has  written  what 
is  probably  the  best  known  and  most  highly  i)rized 
dissertation  on  the  ancient  Greek  poet  in  our  lan- 
guage. And  yet  he,  the  literary  exquisite,  never  in- 
timates, indeed  it  seems  not  to  enter  his  head  to 
tell  us,  what  is  the  real  matter  at  issue  which  pro- 
duced the  conflict,  whose  explosion  quite  3000  years 
ago  called  forth  such  an  unparalleled  and  enduring 
outburst  of  poetry,  with  mountains  of  commentary 
following  down  the  ages  ever  since.  To  be  sure, 
Arnold  claims  that  he  is  merely  giving  some  advice 
*'0n  translating  Homer"  into  English,  still  he 
branches  off  and  dilates  upon  what  may  be  spe- 
cially called  the  literary  aspect  of  the  poet,  which 
excursions  constitute  the  chief  value  of  his  treatise 


xii  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

for  most  readers.  And  yet  the  striking  fact  re- 
mains that  he  does  not  even  think  of  dropping  us 
a  sentence  about  the  genetic  content  or  idea  of  the 
greatest  poetry  in  the  world,  whose  worth  he  is 
celebrating. 

But  there  looms  up  before  us  to-day  far  more 
than  ever  in  the  past,  the  historic  purport  of  the 
Homeric  poems.  Indeed  it  may  be  said  that  to  see 
aright  their  place  in  the  World's  Literature,  we 
at  present  must  get  some  conception  of  their  place 
in  the  World's  History,  even  if  their  special  events 
be  mainly  mythical.  For  Mythology  and  History, 
no  longer  opposed  as  hitherto,  have  now  come  to- 
gether with  mutual  co-operant  harmony  m  Homer. 

Here  we  may  touch  upon  a  point  which  is  to  be 
elaborated  more  fully  later  on:  the  universal  pur- 
port of  the  poems  of  Homer  is  historical,  yea 
world-historical,  but  their  i)articular  occurrences 
are  or  may  be  in  the  main  mythical ;  fabulous  may 
be  their  outer  incidents,  but  their  inner  creative 
substance  is  the  enduring  reality  of  all  Time. 
Mythology  and  History  in  Homer  are  not  enemies, 
as  so  many  of  his  exi)ositors  think,  but  both  have 
their  place  in  his  work  and  contribute  to  his  total 
achievement. 

I. 
The  Old  Trojan  War. 

Ten  years  it  lasted,  that  old  Trojan  War,  as  the 
story  runs,  which  also  adds  ten  years  for  the  prepa- 
ration, and  ten  years  for  the  return  of  the  victors. 


THE  OLD  TROJAN  WAR  xiii 

Thus  three  general  stages  of  it  are  suggested,  of 
which  Homer  may  be  said  to  record  only  the  second 
and  third,  with  not  a  few  incidental  allusions  to 
the  first  stage  strown  along  •  the  pathway  of  his 
narrative.  But  why  did  he  not  compose  a  separate 
poem  on  this  first  stage,  telling  us  how  the  great 
war  came  about,  and  thus  constructing  at  the  start 
a  grand  epical  trilogy?  The  heroic  singer,  how- 
ever, springs  into  the  immediate  action  {in  medias 
res)  ;  he  has  left  it  to  the  later  bardlings,.  most  of 
whom  have  perished,  to  trick  out  his  massive  cen- 
tral achievement  with  the  already  much-frayed 
fringes  of  the  so-called  Epic  Cycle. 

Undoubtedly  that  ancient  contention  on  the  plain 
of  Troy  seems  insignificant  at  the  first  look.  In 
fact  the  compass  of  the  whole  Trojan  War  was 
very  limited,  being  confined  to  a  few  tribes  and 
small  nations  scattered  around  the  Egean  on  both 
sides,  European  and  Asiatic.  Yet  it  was  the  pro- 
phetic germ  of  the  new  order  then  arising,  verily 
of  the  new  world-consciousness.  More  than  any 
other  event  it  heralds  the  birth  of  Europe,  and 
evokes  its  first,  and  still,  from  some  highest  view- 
points, its  most  beautiful  literary  expression. 

The  conflict  between  the  two  forces  now  starting 
definitely  to  grapple  with  each  other  for  untold 
ages  throughout  the  planet,  concentrated  itself 
primordially  in  the  Trojan  plain,  upon  which  rose 
up  imperious  the  citadel  of  Troy  dominating  the 
coast-line  up  and  down  the  Egean,  as  we  may  see 
by  the  number  and  localities  of  Troy's  auxiliaries. 


Xiv  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

Now  to  capture  that  ever-threatening  citadel  was 
the  objective  point  of  the  Greek  army,  we  may  say, 
of  the  Greek  soul. 

On  the  other  hand  this  Greek  army,  which  had 
sailed  across  the  dividing  sea,  built  a  counter 
fortress,  having  drawn  up  their  ships  along  the 
Trojan  shore,  and  protected  them  seemingly  by  a 
sort  of  temporary  earth-work  with  ditch  and  gates. 
For  these  vessels  had  to  be  preserved  as  a  means 
for  carrying  their  combatants  back  to  Europe, 
when  the  great  deed  was  finished.  Such,  then, 
were  the  two  fortified  strongholds  frowning  at  and 
defiant  of  each  other,  as  they  lay  only  a  few  miles 
apart  (variously  reported  at  from  three  to  seven 
miles).  The  one  we  may  designate  as  the  ship- 
wall,  already  vanished  in  Homer's  time  (as  he  de- 
clares), and  the  other  as  the  city-wall,  built  of  stone 
and  hence  still  existent  to-day  though  in  ruins, 
which  have  recently  been  uncovered  to  new  uni- 
versal fame.  It  should  be  added  that  the  ship-wall 
had  two  lines  not  far  apart — one  being  composed  of 
the  sterns  of  the  vessels  drawn  ashore  at  the  water's 
edge,  the  other  being  thrown  up  as  an  earth-work 
some  rods  further  landward. 

Now  between  these  two  ramparts  facing  each 
other  with  hostile  challenge  lay  Troy 's  famous  plain 
— the  arena  which  had  the  unique  destiny  of  be- 
holding the  race's  typical  characters  unfold  them- 
selves in  deed  and  in  word,  and  on  which  the 
World's  History,  at  least  of  our  European  stock, 
had  its  first  embryonic  birth-struggle.     Hence  it 


THE  OLD  TROJAN  WAR  xv 

has  become  a  most  significant  landmark  of  time, 
and  to  this  day  the  Trojan  conflict  is  the  most 
worthily  and  eternally  told  of  all  the  supreme  crises 
of  the  ages.    For  its  voice  to  and  through  futurity 
has  been,  is,  and  will  continue  to  be,  Greek  Homer. 
Startling  possibly,  and  to  some  readers  certainly 
extravagant,   will   appear   the  assertion   that   the 
ever-recurring  series  of  individual  duels  on  Troy's 
plain   constitute   a  World- War,   and  not  a   long- 
drawn  line  of  prize-fights.    What  then  constitutes 
a  World- War?    Not  the  manner  of  the  combat  or 
the   implements   employed,  not   the   numbers   en- 
gaged or  the  extent  of  space  over  which  the  battle 
rages:  on  the  contrary,  it  is  the  eternal  principle 
at  stake,  it  is  the  immortal  value  of  the  deed,  how- 
ever confined  its  territory.    Now  let  it  be  in  con- 
firmation asserted  again  that  the  Trojan  War  is 
going  on  to-day  within  essentially  the  same  bound- 
^  aries  it  had  thirty  centuries  ago,  having  essentially 
the  same  stake  as  then,  with  essentially  the  same 
antagonists,  the  Greek  still  on  this  side  and  the 
Oriental  still  on  the  other. 

We  hope  our  alert  reader  has  felt  prompted  to 
demand:  point  out  to  us  the  passage  in  Homer 
where  he  says  that  he  sings  of  the  conflict  between 
Orient  and  Occident.  Let  it  be  acknowledged  from 
the  start  that  no  such  direct  statement  is  to  be 
found  in  his  poems.  He  and  his  age  were  not  yet 
conscious  of  the  vast  future  significance  of  their 
deed.  In  fact,  time  has  been  evolving  its  meaning 
ever  since  then,  and  is  not  done  yet  with  it  by  any 


xvi  HOMER'8  LIFE-LINES 

means.  But  that  which  Homer  the  poet  purposely 
and  knowingly  takes  as  his  theme  is  the  personal 
career  of  the  two  Heroes,  Achilles  and  Ulysses. 
He  first  seizes  and  sets  forth  the  individual  man  in 
the  grand  human  discipline  and  development. 
Hence  he  sings  an  Achillead  (called  the  Iliad),  and 
an  Ulyssead  (called  the  Odyssey),  each  of  them 
being  the  record  of  a  great  personal  experience, 
whose  frame-work  is  the  Trojan  War.  Indeed  the 
Greek  Muse,  whom  he  invokes,  could  only  inspire 
him  with  the  song  of  individuality,  for  just  that  is 
what  Greece  signifies  to  civilisation  and  to  herself. 

Still  those  two  heroic  individuals,  Achilles  and 
Ulysses,  made  eternal  by  the  poet,  have  their  deeper 
even  if  unconscious  being  in  that  Trojan  time  and 
its  conflict.  The  underlying  pre-supposition  of 
both  of  Homer's  poems,  and  the  genetic  substrate 
of  all  his  characters,  must  be  sought  in  the  spiritual 
collision  between  the  two  opposite  sides  of  the 
Egean,  between  the  Asiatic  and  Greek.  To  be 
sure,  this  collision  has  not  yet  pushed  up  to  the 
surface,  though  ever-present  underneath  and  active 
germinally;  it  has  not  yet  become  historic  and 
conscious,  as  we  find  it  in  the  next  great  Greek 
book  after  Homer,  namely  the  History  of  Hero- 
dotus, whose  proclaimed  theme  is  just  the  war  be- 
tween Hellas  and  the  Orient,  as  represented  by  tl^e 
Persian.  n. 

Let  it  first  be  grasped,  then,  that  this  conflict  be- 
tween Greeks  and  Trojans  has  arisen  in  one  and 
the  same  stock  or  folk,  namely  the  Hellenic    That 


THE  OLD   TROJAN  WAR  xvii 

is,  the  Greeks  and  the  Trojans  are  two  branches  of 
the  one  Hellenic  people.  They  talk  the  same  lan- 
guage, have  the  same  customs,  worship  the  same 
Gods.  Homer  himself  intimates,  to  be  sure  mythic- 
ally, their  common  origin.  It  would  seem  that  an 
early  offshoot  of  the  Hellenic  race  divided  from 
the  main  branch  somewhere  in  Northern  Greece, 
crossed  the  Egean  to  Asia,  and  there  settled  in  the 
Troad,  where  they  built  Troy.  Such  is  the  earliest 
legendary  glimmer  of  the  separation  of  the  Hellenes 
(so  they  still  to-day  call  themselves  in  their  to- 
tality) into  their  two  opposing  tendencies,  the  one 
turning  eastward,  the  other  keeping  westward.  In 
the  course  of  generations  this  spatial  separation 
becomes  spiritual,  with  fierce  struggle  for  the  mas- 
tery of  the  future  Hellenic  heritage.  Hence  we 
may  characterize  the  two  antagonistic  sides,  though 
of  one  blood,  thus :  The  Greeks  are  Hellenes  with 
face  turned  toward  the  West  and  Europe,  the  Tro- 
jans are  Hellenes  with  face  turned  toward  the 
East  and  Asia. 

The  main  point  now  to  be  emphasized  is  that  the 
conflict  between  Orient  and  Occident,  which  will 
hereafter  expand  to  such  enormous  proportions, 
and  will  keep  on  expanding  till  to-day  it  quite  em- 
braces the  whole  earth,  is  as  yet  only  very  local 
and  germinal  in  Homer.  Still  it  is  yeasting 
through  all  his  writ,  even  if  the  poet  is  hardly 
aware  of  what  is  working  most  deeply  in  himself. 
So  it  comes  that  he  has  spoken  the  truly  creative 
word,  which  also  unfolds  more  deeply  its  meaning 
along  with  the  ages. 


xviii  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

The  next  question  which  naturally  comes  up  in 
this  connection,  inquires:  How  does  Homer  ex- 
press the  cause  or  ground  of  the  aforesaid  conflict  ? 
Not  in  abstract  terms,  but  in  concrete,  imaginative 
form;  he  individualizes  it  after  his  wont,  repre- 
senting it  in  and  through  a  person,  yea  a  woman. 
Here  enters  the  story  of  Greek  Helen,  whose  ab- 
duction by  Trojan  Paris,  not  only  starts  but  keeps 
up  the  war  of  the  Greeks  for  her  restoration.  What 
has  that  to  do  with  the  conflict  between  Orient  and 
Occident  ?  So  much  we  can  say  now  with  the  poet : 
an  Oriental  Prince  has  come  to  Greece,  has  taken 
away  the  most  beautiful  Greek  woman  from  family 
and  country  (thus  defying  Greek  social  institu- 
tions) and  refuses  to  give  her  up  on  demand,  in 
which  refusal  he  is  supported  by  his  own  city  of 
Troy  and  its  ruler  Priam,  and  finally  by  Troy's 
allied  peoples.  Oriental  or  Orientalizing. 

From  Homer's  time  to  this  day  there  has  been 
one  long  struggle  to  find  and  to  express  the  mean- 
ing of  Helen.  She  has  begotten  thousands  of  poems 
in  every  style,  thousands  of  essays  and  prelections 
of  all  sorts — a  vast  literature  ranging  from  sym- 
pathetic admiration  to  bitterest  invective.  Rather 
the  most  prolific  woman  that  ever  existed,  she  may 
be  acclaimed,  excepting  mother  Eve.  Wonderful 
too  has  been  her  metamorphosis  down  time;  she 
seems  to  have  the  power  of  taking  a  new  shape  for 
every  succeeding  age.  Only  yesterday  I  read  the 
verse  of  a  living  Romaic  bard,  who  sang  that  the 
Greeks  again  were  launching  their  ships  in  a  new 


THE  OLD  TROJAN  WAR  xix 

expedition  across  the  Egean  to  Troy  for  the  restora- 
tion of  their  stolen  Helen — still  a  captive  of  the 
Oriental  man,  not  now  the  Trojan,  or  the  Persian, 
or  the  Arabian,  but  the  Turk,  last  bulwark  of  her 
barbarous  abduction. 

But  turning  back  from  this  latest  epiphany  of 
Helen  to  her  first  appearance  in  the  affair  of  Troy, 
we  continue  eagerly  to  interrogate:  What  does 
she  stand  for  to  those  earliest  Greeks,  and  to  their 
and  her  singer.  Homer  ?  That  she  represents  some- 
thing deep  within  their  mind  and  heart,  aye  the 
very  deepest,  is  indicated  by  the  long  yet  persistent 
labors  and  sacrifices  which  they  undergo  for  her 
sake.  We  have  to  think  her  their  principle,  their 
essence,  however  we  may  formulate  it ;  her  soul 
must  be  their  soul,  and  her  story  their  story  in  its 
completed  round  of  ravishment,  exile,  and  res- 
toration. The  fight  for  her  possession  is  the  fight 
of  the  Greeks  for  their  distinctive  existence,  for  the 
Hellenic  spirit  we  may  say.  Indeed  the  affair  goes 
much  deeper,  as  we  now  can  see  who  look  back  over 
the  tract  of  the  centuries.  It  is  hence  the  contest 
for  the  future  inheritance  of  the  race's  culture, 
inasmuch  as  the  problem  therein  propounded  may 
be  taken  to  run  thus:  Which  of  these  two  con- 
testants, Greek  or  Asiatic,  is  to  be  the  bearer  of 
civilisation  to  that  new  European  world  now  being 
born?  The  Greek  claimed  it  and  won  it  both  in 
legend  and  history,  valiantly  asserting  his  ancient 
leadership  both  at  Troy  and  Marathon. 

The  Trojans,  then,  belonged  to  the  Hellenic  race, 


XX 


HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 


in  which  the  aforesaid  primal  bifurcation  was  tak- 
ing place  eastward  and  westward.  One  of  the  most 
significant  facts  about  Troy  is  that  within  the  city 
itself  there  existed  the  two  parties,  whom  we  may 
call  the  Orientalizers  and  the  Hellenizers.  It  is 
generally  recognized  that  a  cardinal  test  of  the  dif- 
ference between  the  Asiatic  and  the  European  civ- 
ilizations lies  in  their  different  attitude  toward 
man's  basic  institution,  the  Family  with  its  heart, 
the  woman.  The  Orient  was  and  still  is  polygamous, 
Europe  monogamous.  Of  this  fundamental  social 
diversity  in  the  World's  History,  which  brought 
with  its  rise  a  long  epochal  conflict,  Hellas  was  the 
early  protagonist.  And  the  story  of  Helen  has  in 
it  a  decided  strain  of  monogamy,  since  she,  the  wife 
of  the  one  and  herself  the  one  only,  is  to  be  re- 
stored to  her  Greek  husband  by  a  ten  years '  war  if 
need  be,  out  of  her  hapless  estrangement  in  Troy, 
whose  ruler  is  portrayed  by  the  poet  as  a  colossal 
polygamist,  though  not  quite  equal  in  this  respect 
to  Solomon,  our  biblical  exemplar  of  wisdom  and 
polygamy.  Priam  had  fifty  sons,  according  to  the 
Homeric  tally,  when  the  Greeks  arrived  before  his 
city  walls;  his  chief  wife  Hecuba  had  borne  him 
nineteen,  so  that  thirty  one  must  be  assigned  to 
other  women.  In  addition  to  these  sons,  the  poet 
gives  him  a  relatively  small  output  of  twelve  daugh- 
ters with  their  husbands.  It  is  true  that  Homer 
does  not  mention  so  directly  any  other  polygamist 
in  Troy  except  Priam ;  but  is  not  this  one  case  of  the 
ruler  emphatic  enough  to  show  the  dominant  trend  ? 


THE  OLD  TROJAN  WAR 


TTI 


Some  too  good  commentators  have  held  that  Priam 
was  the  only  one  of  his  sort  in  the  city,  and  the 
grand  exception  there ;  rather  should  we  infer  that 
the  poet  took  the  sovereign  as  the  most  telling  in- 
carnation and  significant  symbol  of  the  prevalent 
practice  and  spirit  of  his  people. 

Still  just  in  that  same  city  of  Troy,  and  also  in 
that  same  household  of  the  king,  we  hear  the  clash- 
ing protest.  Hector,  Priam's  best  and  bravest  son, 
urges  the  restoration  of  Helen,  in  whose  abduction 
lay  the  original  sin  against  monogamy  which  caused 
the  war,  and  which  will,  as  he  foretells  with  pro- 
phetic fervor,  bring  about  Troy's  downfall.  But 
the  other  side,  that  of  Paris,  being  upheld  by  his 
father  the  monarch,  and  by  some  secret  bribery  it 
seems,  is  too  strong  for  even  heroic  Hector,  though 
he  has  the  support  of  his  brother  Antenor  in  vin- 
dicating the  same  view.  Moreover  the  relation  be- 
tween Hector  and  his  spouse  Andromache  shows 
the  purest  domestic  devotion  between  the  one  man 
and  the  one  wife,  and  cannot  be  conceived  as 
tainted  with  his  own  father's  polygamy.  Hence 
we  have  to  say  that  Hector,  in  his  deepest  convic- 
tion, represents  the  Greek  world  inside  of  Troy, 
and  thus  fights  for  a  cause  in  which  he  does  not 
believe — and  just  that  is  his  tragedy,  his  world- 
historical  fate,  in  spite  of  his  personal  nobility  of 
character. 

But  our  main  point  at  present  is  the  fact  that  the 
original  dualism  between  Orient  and  Occident  now 
starts  within  the  Hellenic  race  itself,  and  is  to  fight 


xxii  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

out  its  earliest  recorded  round  on  the  plain  of  Troy, 
very  circumscribed  and  indeed  embryonic  when 
compared  to  that  same  now  mightily  developed 
conflict,  which  belts  more  than  half  the  globe  to- 
day. Thus  ancient  Priam  recalls  the  modern  Turk 
with  his  harem  and  its  diversified  offspring.  Also 
the  political  order  of  Troy  has  its  similarity  to  the 
Oriental  absolutism ;  Priam  is  the  paternalistic  au- 
tocrat as  ruler,  not  unlike  the  Sultan.  But  to  these 
domestic  and  political  differences  is  in  our  time 
added  a  new  and  intenser  antagonism,  the  religious. 
The  old  Greeks  and  Trojans  had  no  fight  over  any 
diversity  of  God-consciousness;  both  sides  had  the 
same  Olympian  system,  though  its  divinities  might 
and  did  divide  among  themselves  concerning  the 
fate  of  Troy.  That  is,  the  primordial  dualism  of 
the  Hellenic  race  had  entered  Olympus  itself,  and 
cleft  it  into  two  opposing  parties  of  Gods,  who  will 
battle  with  each  other  above,  as  do  the  Greeks  and 
Trojans  below  at  Troy.  Thus  the  grand  Hellenic 
bifurcation  sunders  their  one  religion  for  a  time 
into  warring  halves,  whose  opposition  we  shall  find 
penetrating  for  a  time  even  their  supreme  God, 
Zeus  Himself. 

But  at  present  the  religious  element  has  become 
paramount  in  the  furious  fanatical,  sanguinary 
strife  between  two  world-faiths,  the  Christian  now 
specially  represented  by  the  Greek,  and  the  Ma- 
hommedan  now  specially  represented  by  the  Turk. 
Still  along  with  these  two  Faiths  and  their  re- 
spective  protagonists   are    involved    many   other 


THE  OLD  TROJAN  WAR  xxiii 

Faiths  and  Unfaiths  of  every  sort ;  for  instance  all 
multi-religious  and  multi-racial  India  is  seething, 
and  as  Pan-Asiatic  seems  just  now  to  be  uniting 
and  arraying  itself  upon  the  old  Trojan  battle-line 
against  the  Greeks  and  Europe.  Moreover  along- 
side and  often  underneath  the  religious  question 
is  violently  fermenting  the  political  protest,  which 
is  proclaiming  to  the  Occident:  ''Hands  off  from 
the  government  of  our  Orient. ' '  And  into  this  po- 
litical opposition  has  become  intergrown  the  loud 
economic  dissent  which  now  is  crying  out:  ''No 
more  of  your  Europe-made  fabrics — up  with  our 
old  national  industries!"  And  the  hostility  ex- 
tends to  a  reaction  against  Western  education 
which  has  been  subtly  inoculating  the  countries  of 
the  East.  Thus  the  three  great  secular  institutions 
of  man  in  their  Occidental  form,  the  political,  the 
economic,  and  the  educative,  are  to  be  expelled 
from  the  Orient  in  the  grand  revival  of  its  new 
religious  spirit.  For  the  creative  genius  of  the 
Orient  has  been  and  probably  still  is  religious ;  all 
the  great  world-religions  of  to-day  arose  and  de- 
veloped in  Asia;  our  own  Christian  religion,  we 
must  not  forget,  is  Asiatic  in  its  origin  and  in  its 
early  expansion  and  organisation,  and  has  its  strong 
Oriental  reactions  to-day,  even  in  our  America. 

But  let  us  return  from  these  far-away  glimpses 
of  the  Trojan  War's  present  expansion  to  its  mi- 
nute original  starting-point,  little  Troy  with  its 
supreme  singer  Homer.  Often  enough  have  we  said 
that  his  ultimate  theme  lav  in  the  conflict  between 


xxiv  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

Orient  and  Occident,  just  opening  on  the  Trojan 
plain  and  as  yet  limited  to  the  one  Hellenic  stock. 
Thus  that  primordial  Trojan  War  was  really  a 
kind  of  Civil  War,  the  incipient  struggle  of  the 
whole  Hellenic  folk  within  itself  to  settle  its  fu- 
ture destiny,  namely  the  coming  civilisation  of 
Europe. 

Also  we  have  laid  down  the  proposition  more 
than  once  that  the  old  conflict  of  Troy  is  going  on 
to-day,  has  indeed  started  up  quite  recently  with  a 
fresh  energy  of  blood-letting  and  rancour.  Whereof 
a  brief  survey  would  seem  to  be  in  place  for  the 
more  complete  comprehension  of  our  poet. 

IL 

To-day's  Trojan  War. 

The  best  explication  of  Homer  in  his  truly  uni- 
versal sense  is  the  present  struggle  between  Greek 
and  Turk  along  the  western  coast  of  Asia  Minor. 
The  arena  is  still  the  same  territory  as  formerly, 
being  at  and  around  Troy;  the  principle  fought 
about  persists  in  general  the  same.  Orient  versus 
Occident;  the  Greek  military  campaign  from  Eu- 
ropean Hellas  across  the  Egean  to  meet  the  foe  is 
quite  the  same  now  as  then  in  direction  and  in 
spirit.  Internally  and  universally  it  is  the  same 
war  a^  sung  by  Homer ;  externally  and  in  particu- 
lars it  is  very  different.  Gunpowder,  electricity, 
the  steam-car  have  taken  the  place  of  the  horse- 


TO-DATS  TROJAN  WAR  xxv 

chariot,  the  speer-hurler,  and  the  archer;  but  the 
original  elemental  First  Cause  of  the  strife  con- 
tinues the  same,  though  expanded  from  atomic  into 
continental  proportions.  To  use  a  Platonic  ex- 
pression, colossal  in  magnitude  and  in  mutation 
has  been  the  Appearance,  but  the  creative  Idea  in- 
dwelling it  has  not  changed,  but  seems  just  now 
more  furiously  active  in  combativeness  and  more 
unreconciled  in  temper  than  ever  before.  Indeed 
the  reconciliation  of  Orient  and  Occident  remains 
the  future  largest,  most  desperate  task  of  the 
World's  History.  Homer,  when  truly  heard,  first 
struck  its  key-note. 

But  our  present  object  is  to  take  cognizance  of 
to-day's  Trojan  War,  as  we  shall  call  it  passingly, 
for  the  purpose  of  stressing  our  analogy.  In  recent 
Greek  newspapers  we  find  it  named  the  modern 
Ten  Year's  War,  as  it  has  lasted  practically  from 
the  Balkan  outbreak  (1912)  till  now  (1922).  In 
such  wise  the  Greek  mind  still  couples  the  two 
great  events  of  its  history — the  overture  and  the 
finale  some  thirty  centuries  apart — and  thus  still 
acts  and  thinks  in  the  framework  built  by  old 
Homer.    So  we  shall  proceed  also. 

In  1917  Greece  changed  from  her  neutral,  if  not 
secretly  hostile,  attitude  toward  the  Allies,  and 
entered  the  World- War  through  Venizelos,  her 
greatest  statesman  since  Pericles,  who  may  be  ac- 
claimed the  hero  of  the  modern  conflict  of  Hellas 
with  her  Oriental  foe,  now  the  Turk.  But  in  order 
to  accomplish  his  supreme  national  end,  which  was 


xxvi  HOMER'8  LIFE-LINES 

to  rescue  and  to  unite  the  whole  dispersed  Hellenic 
family,  he  had  to  oust  the  antagonistic  titular  king 
of  Greece,  Constantine,  who  was  not  a  Greek  by 
birth  or  education,  being  born  of  a  Danish  father 
and  a  Eussian  mother,  and  being  educated  as  a 
German  soldier  in  his  higher  training.  Moreover 
he  was  married  to  a  German  Princess,  who  did  not 
forget  her  brother,  the  Kaiser,  and  Berlin,  when 
she  was  installed  in  her  Greek  palace  at  Athens. 
But  is  it  not  strange?  For  now  we  see  again  in 
the  Grecian  camp  the  hero  and  the  king,  or  ability 
and  authority,  clashing  in  bitter  strife  and  opposi- 
tion, re-enacting  Achilles  and  Agamemnon  in  the 
fateful  quarrel  of  the  First  Book  of  the  Iliad.  But 
the  result  in  the  present  case  was  that  the  hero 
overmatched  the  king,  who  had  to  flee  from  Hellas, 
and  betake  himself  along  with  his  queen  as  an  exile 
to  Switzerland. 

The  next  year  (1918)  saw  the  end  of  the  World- 
War,  the  success  of  the  Allies,  and  the  triumph  of 
Venizelos,  the  Greek  hero  as  statesman.  The  Turks, 
who  had  sided  with  Germany,  were  completely 
broken  in  spirit,  their  army  captured,  their  wea- 
pons taken  from  them,  their  capital  Constantinople 
given  over  to  their  enemies.  Venizelos  seized  the 
supreme  opportunity  for  restoring  to  freedom  and 
unifying  his  much-scattered  Hellenic  people.  He 
claimed  on  national  grounds,  and  received  from  the 
friendly  Allies,  what  was  practically  the  Greek 
world  in  Europe  and  in  Asia,  though  he  renounced 
Constantinople,  the  grand  goal  of  all  Hellenic  as- 


TO-DAY'8  TROJAN  WAR  xxvii 

piration,  for  the  implied  promise  of  its  possession 
in  the  future. 

But  that  which  specially  concerns  the  student  of 
Homer  in  these  proceedings  is  that  during  the  fol- 
lowing year  (1919),  Venizelos  secures  the  grand 
prize  of  his  statesmanship  from  the  victorious  Al- 
lies, namely  a  mandate  which  means  his  possession 
of  all  the  Greek  countries  under  Turkish  rule.  Now 
the  culminating  deed  of  these  manifold  transac- 
tions was  the  advance  over  the  Egean,  and  the  oc- 
cupation of  Smyrna  by  the  Greeks  and  the  Allies 
in  May  1919,  under  the  direction  of  Venizelos.  Our 
Homeric  heart  ought  here  to  thrill  with  new  inter- 
est, since  Smyrna  is  more  intimately  connected  and 
indeed  intergrown  with  Homer's  life  and  work  than 
any  other  spot  of  Greek  territory.  It  may  be  said 
to  keep  watch  over  Troy,  it  stands  on  the  old 
battle-line  against  the  Orient;  it  probably  saw  the 
birth  and  composition  of  the  poet's  Iliad. 

Such  was  the  primal  grand  action  of  to-day's 
Trojan  War  (as  we  shall  at  present  designate  it  for 
the  striking  analogy)  repeating  in  marvelous  out- 
line the  ancient  expedition  which  set  out  from  Aulis 
for  the  Anatolian  shore,  with  the  purpose  of  sup- 
pressing that  recreant  Troy  which  was  Orientaliz- 
ing, and  thus  had  become  faithless  to  the  grand 
Hellenic  destiny  of  the  future.  So  this  last  expedi- 
tion turns  in  the  same  direction  to  face  the  same 
foe  as  of  old,  being  animated  with  the  same  ultimate 
purpose.  Moreover  it  should  be  added  that  the 
people  of  these  two  Greek  expeditions,  so  many 


Xxviii  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

milleniums  apart,  spoke  the  same  Greek  speech  and 
might  have  tolerably  understood  one  another's  vo- 
cables, in  spite  of  the  emphatic  dialectal  differences, 
whereof  Homer  himself  furnishes  still  the  striking 
example — his  epic  tongue  being  a  composite  of  sev- 
eral dialects.  So  much,  however,  we  looking  far 
back  can  now  affirm:  that  antique  Hellenic  folk, 
with  and  through  their  poet,  has  evolved  the  most 
immortal  language  which  has  yet  appeared  on  our 
planet. 

But  suddenly  starts  to  fall  the  heavy  counter- 
stroke  of  fate  upon  the  hitherto  smiling  fortune  of 
Venizelos.  The  Christian  Greeks,  drunk  with  their 
victory,  begin  to  murder,  in  the  wantonness  of  new- 
won  power,  the  innocent  inhabitants  of  the  Moham- 
medan faith,  and  thus  they  rouse  a  religious  ven- 
geance, the  most  venomous  kind  of  vengeance,  not 
only  throughout  all  Asia  Minor,  but  likewise  hither 
Asia  including  Egypt  and  India.  The  immediate 
result  was  that  a  hero  arose  on  the  Turkish  side 
and  sprang  to  the  front  in  defence  of  his  people 
and  religion.  It  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  Musta- 
pha  Kemal  Pasha  has  become  the  Hector  of  this  last 
Trojan  War,  in  spite  of  many  differences  between 
the  old  and  the  new  leader.  Still  Venizelos  com- 
pleted his  diplomatic  triumph  by  the  Treaty  of 
Sevres  (April  1920)  in  which  the  Allies  confirmed 
practically  all  his  winnings  from  the  Turks,  and 
thus  he  placed  himself  on  the  pinnacle  of  states- 
manship not  only  of  Greece  but  of  Europe. 

In  a  few  months,  however,  dropped  the  sudden 


TO-DAY'S  TROJAN  WAR  xxix 

thunderbolt,  which  shook  the  world — the  Fall  of 
Venizelos.  It  came  through  the  act  of  his  own 
Greek  people,  who  by  vote  drove  their  greatest  hero 
into  exile  and  recalled  king  Constantine,  the  mon- 
arch who  in  recent  years  had  been  such  a  persistent 
obstacle  to  their  cause,  even  if  formerly  in  the 
Balkans  he  had  helped  fight  their  battles.  But  let 
us  mark  again  the  Homeric  aspect  of  the  situation : 
the  hero,  unappreciated  and  dishonored,  retires 
from  his  country's  service,  whereby  the  enemy 
conquer.  For  the  Turks  just  at  present  seem  in 
a  fair  way  'to  recover  all  that  Venizelos  won  for  his 
Greeks,  even  to  regain  Homer's  Smyrna,  not  far 
from  which  they  are  now  drawn  up  in  battle  array. 
For  at  the  present  moment  any  reconciliation  be- 
tween hero  and  king  appears  unlikely.  So  we  see 
the  situation  described  in  the  Iliad:  the  Greeks 
enter  the  battle  without  their  hero,  though  with 
their  king,  while  the  Trojans  (the  Turks)  are  in 
the  full  flush  of  their  victory,  being  led  by  their 
valiant  Hector.  Thus  to-day's  Trojan  War  has 
reached  about  the  same  situation  which  we  find  in 
the  middle  of  the  old  Iliad,  with  the  future  look- 
ing gloomy  enough  for  the  Greeks. 

Why  did  the  Greek  people  reject  their  hero 
Venizelos,  tumbling  him  down  from  the  top  of  his 
consummate  success  in  their  cause?  One  reason 
assigned  is  that  they  were  tired  of  war;  yet  Con- 
stantine, the  professional  soldier,  made  them  fight 
more  than  ever,  and  they  have  been  fighting  ever 
since.    Another  ground  has  been  strongly  affirmed 


XXX  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

by  observers  on  the  spot:  the  Greek  people  were 
actually  envious  of  the  unbroken  fortune  and  of 
the  dominating  European  influence  of  their  illus- 
trious Statesman,  who  had  united  and  restored 
their  nationality.  To  our  astonishment  afresh  the 
ancient  parallel  will  spring  up  before  us:  Venize- 
los  has  had  to  suffer  from  his  people  the  same  fate 
which  befell  the  old  Athenian  Themistocles,  whose 
genius  it  chiefly  was  which  won  the  first  Persian 
war  and  freed  historical  Greece  and  Europe  from 
the  rule  of  the  Orient. 

Thus  it  seems  that  the  modern  Greeks  are  af- 
flicted with  the  same  fatal  jealousy  which  the  an- 
cient Greeks  so  often  manifested  toward  their  Great 
Man,  banishing  him  from  the  state  which  he  had 
served  and  saved,  by  a  popular  vote  known  as  the 
ostracism.  Their  own  best  writers,  for  instance 
Plato  and  Plutarch,  have  reproached  them  for  their 
envy  (phthonos),  and  denounced  it  to  be  of  all 
human  qualities  the  most  ungodlike.  At  any  rate 
the  blow  which  felled  Venizelos,  struck  by  his  own 
people,  resounded  all  around  the  world  and  came 
back  like  a  boomerang,  compelling  everywhere  the 
question:  is  such  a  nation  worth  saving?  The 
Greeks  are  already  feeling  the  backstroke  of  their 
own  deed,  as  long  ago  set  forth  in  antique  tragedy, 
and  also  in  Homer,  and  they  probably  have  still 
more  to  suffer. 

Such  is,  in  some  far-off  flashes,  what  we  may  call 
the  newest  interpretation  of  the  old  poet,  as  now 
published  by  Time  itself,  which  thus  unfolds  not 


THE  OLD  TROJAN  WAR  xxxi 

only  Homer's  enduring,  but  also  his  ever-widening 
truth.  For  it  is  this  eternal  truth  which  we  wish  to 
get  at  in  the  poet,  and  in  literature,  and  in  every- 
thing else.  So  we  seek  to  conceive  to-day's  Trojan 
War,  which  is  still  being  fought  as  of  old  in  the 
same  locality  and  for  the  same  stake,  with  remark- 
able co-incidences  even  in  the  particular  events  of 
these  two  Trojan  Wars,  the  first  and  the  last. 

Indeed  it  would  seem  as  if  we  might  point  out  in 
the  ancient  record  the  very  stage  at  which  the  mod- 
ern combatants  have  arrived.  In  the  Twelfth  Book 
of  the  Iliad,  Hector  at  the  head  of  his  victorious 
Trojans  breaks  down  the  gate  of  the  wall  and 
rushes  through  the  aperture,  thus  getting  inside 
the  Greek  fortification  and  pushing  ahead  to  set 
fire  to  the  ships,  which  lie  not  far  off  drawn  up 
along  the  coast  line.  In  some  such  position  Kemal 
(the  Turkish  Hector)  appears  to  be  triumphing  at 
the  present  moment,  having  broken  through  what 
seems  the  outer  Greek  battle-line.  This  Twelfth 
Book  is  the  middle  one  of  the  Iliad,  and  is  the  cen- 
ter of  that  long  desperate  combat  which  rages 
through  nearly  nine  Books  at  the  heart  of  the  poem. 
But  according  to  the  last  account  yester  eve,  Kemal 
(Hector)  had  not  yet  reached  ''with  consuming  fire 
the  ship  of  Protesilaus ",  but  was  driving  forward 
on  the  way  thither.  To-morrow  we  may  hear  of  his 
arrival  and  his  deed.  Such,  in  general,  is  to-day's 
situation  of  the  modern  Trojan  War  at  and  around 
Smyrna,  as  if  foregleamed  from  old  Troy's  silent 
down-looking  citadel.     The  hero  Venizelos  (Achil- 


Xxxii  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

les)  is  absent  in  his  foreign  tent  somewhere,  missing 
at  the  verj^  crisis  of  his  country's  destiny,  not  how- 
ever through  his  own  will  but  through  the  deed  of 
the  Greek  people  themselves. 

III. 
Homeric  Backgrounds. 

Having  thus  sought  to  indicate  that  Homer  with 
his  Trojan  theme  has  his  unique  place  in  Universal 
History,  we  shall  next  try  to  catch,  from  passing 
allusions  in  his  poems,  some  of  the  historic  presup- 
positions of  his  work.  For  he  had  to  have  certain 
foregone  backgrounds  of  tradition,  out  of  which  his 
genius  sprang,  and  which  he  wrought  over  into  his 
present  productions.  Ever  the  poet  holds  seething 
within  himself  the  whole  past  of  his  people,  whose 
supreme  travail  is  to  unfold  into  him  and  his  high- 
est achievement. 

Now  on  close  inspection  we  find  in  Homer's  book 
three  successive  layers  of  the  Hellenic  folk  follow- 
ing in  time  one  another  at  considerable  intervals. 
Really  they  indicate  three  consecutive  invasions  of 
different  branches  or  tribes  of  the  Greek  race,  each 
of  which  after  a  period  of  possession,  is  conquered 
and  supplanted  serially  till  the  remaining  last  one 
of  the  line. 

The  Homeric  scene  of  such  invasions  lay  in  the 
Greek  Peninsula,  their  direction  was  from  North- 
em  Greece  (say  Thessaly)  to  Southern  (say  the 
Peloponnesus),    while    culturally    the    movement 


HOMERIC  BACKGROUNDS  xxxiii 

started  from  the  more  savage  and  drove  against  the 
more  civilized  members  of  the  same  stock.  That  is, 
Homer  seems  to  be  aware  that  thrice  before  his  own 
time  the  barbarians  of  the  North  had  swept  down 
upon  the  civilisation  of  the  South,  had  conquered  it 
and  taken  its  place.  Thus  he  in  his  little  Greek 
corner  had  seen,  as  it  were  embryonically,  what  all 
Europe  later  beheld  full-fledged  for  more  than  a 
thousand  years,  what  indeed  appears  to  be  lowering 
over  it  just  now. 

The  names  of  these  three  sets  of  invaders  may  be 
given  in  the  following  order:  the  Pelasgian,  the 
Achaean,  the  Doric.  Of  course  our  learned  ex- 
positors have  disputed  much  about  these  designa- 
tions; but  the  words  are  all  given  by  Homer  him- 
self, and  even  their  special  meaning  may  be  fairly 
inferred  from  what  he  says,  though  he  is  not  always 
uniform  in  his  usage.  Taking  the  more  familiar 
term,  we  shall  call  them  the  Irruptions  of  the 
Northern  Barbarians,  confining  them  of  course  to 
the  Greek  Peninsula  and  its  peoples  as  known  to 
Homer. 

I.  The  Pelasgian  Irruption,  the  oldest  known 
to  Homer,  descended  from  the  North  and  impinged 
in  Southern  Greece  upon  an  antecedent  civilisation, 
which  was  pre-Hellenic  and  probably  pre-Aryan. 
It  pertained  to  that  long-agone  aforetime  which 
has  been  uncovered  in  recent  years  by  the  nu- 
merous excavations  in  Greece  and  in  Asia  Minor. 
A  vast  pre-historic  material  has  been  unearthed  and 
set  up  in  museums,  but  its  message  as  a  whole  has 


xxxiv  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

hardly  yet  been  deciphered,  certainly  not  settled 
historically  and  organized.  On  the  whole  the  spade 
has  as  yet  dug  up  more  problems  than  solutions, 
which  fact,  however,  should  favor  its  continuance. 
But  the  question  still  stays  whether  Schliemann's 
discoveries  at  Mycenae  and  Troy  confirm  or  deny 
Homer.  Somewhat  of  both  is  probably  a  fair  re- 
sultant of  the  two  contradictories,  Yes  and  No. 
Still  the  general  proposition  that  the  early  Hellenic 
Pelasgians  debouched  from  the  North  and  over- 
whelmed an  older  civilisation  in  the  South  may  be 
accepted  as  valid,  since  that  is  just  what  History 
has  been  repeating  ever  since,  not  only  in  Greece 
but  along  the  whole  Mediterranean  from  the  Egean 
to  the  Atlantic. 

Now  Homer  knows  a  good  deal  about  the  Pelas- 
gians, though  after  a  scattered  fashion.  They  were 
already  in  his  day  a  submerged  folk  which  still 
showed  life  underneath  the  dominating  race, 
namely  the  Achaean,  and  which  would  push  up  to 
the  surface  in  certain  localities  far  apart.  For  in- 
stance. Homer  mentions  the  Pelasgic  element  in 
Northern  Greece  (Thessaly),  in  Southern  Greece 
(Peloponnesus),  in  Asia  Minor  and  even  in  the 
island  of  Crete.  All  this  indicates  the  original 
wide  dispersion  of  the  Pelasgians  over  the  whole 
Hellenic  territory,  quite  as  we  bound  it  to-day. 

Who  were  these  primitive  Pelasgians,  of  what 
race  ?  Very  significant  is  the  fact  that  the  supreme 
God  of  the  Greeks,  Zeus,  is  called  Pelasgic  by  the 
old  poet.     And  the  Greek  hero,  Achilles,  before 


HOMERIC  BACKGROUNDS  xxxv 

Troy  still  prays:  ''O  King  Zeus,  the  Dodonaean, 
the  Pelasgian,  fulfil  for  me  this  my  supplication" 
(Illiad  XVI,  233).  Hence  we  infer  that  the  Pe- 
lasgic  stock  was  the  early  Hellenic,  having  the  same 
Gods  and  sanctuaries  and  sacred  rites.  Moreover 
Homer  in  the  Catalogue  (Iliad,  Book  II)  designates 
the  Thessalian  domain  of  Achilles  by  the  name  of 
Pelasgic  Argos,  suggesting  probably  the  primal  lo- 
cality where  the  rising  Argives  (or  Achaeans)  first 
met  and  put  down  the  declining  Pelasgians. 

Significant  is  the  fact  that  a  remnant  of  this  pri- 
mordial Greek  stock  still  survived  in  Asia  Minor, 
and  naturally  took  sides  with  Troy  in  the  war 
against  their  old  enemies,  the  Argives  (or 
Achaeans).  And  these  ''divine  Pelasgians",  as 
Homer  titles  them,  long  outlasted  the  throes  of  the 
Trojan  conflict,  for  we  find  them  mentioned  at 
least  ten  times  by  Herodotus  in  his  History,  who 
dates  himself  some  four  centuries  after  Homer.  A 
part  of  them  were  also  drawn  into  the  Persian  War 
of  Xerxes  against  the  continental  Greeks  (an  echo 
of  the  old  Trojan  fight),  which  war  they  must  have 
outlived,  in  order  to  have  come  under  the  eye  of 
Herodotus,  who  adjudged  them  Barbarians,  be- 
cause he  did  not  understand  their  dialect.  Still 
he  connects  them  closely  with  the  Ionic  tribe,  even 
with  the  Athenians,  showing  herein  seemingly  a 
touch  of  his  Doric  prejudice,  which  fails  him  not 
elsewhere,  but  which  is  unknown  to  Hom.er. 

During  this  Pelasgian  era  which  lasted  several 
centuries,  the  eventful  primal  migration  took  place 


XXXvi  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

from  Northern  Hellas  across  the  sea  to  the  Troad. 
Thus  arose  the  later  Trojans,  originally  from  the 
early  Hellenic  stock,  and  preserving  in  common 
their  Greek  speech,  manners,  religion,  and  folk- 
lore. For  Homeric  Troy  held  essentially  an  Hel- 
lenic populuation,  though  inoculated  with  an 
Asiatic  tendency.  Repeatedly  does  the  poet  give 
the  Trojan  lineage  from  Dardanus,  the  son  of  Zeus 
the  Olympian,  whose  posterity  were  called  the  Dar- 
danids  and  also  the  Trojans,  and  who  transferred 
even  Olympus  to  a  mountain  in  the  Troad.  Thus 
came  about  the  original  split  of  the  Hellenic  race 
into  its  two  primal  branches,  the  European  and  the 
Oriental,  with  their  two  opposite  trends  leading 
finally  to  the  Trojan  War,  which  (we  deem  it  our 
part  to  repeat  at  every  turn)  is  still  holding  out  in 
the  same  general  locality,  so  that  to-day  we  witness 
practically  the  old  conflict  between  Greece  and 
Troy. 

To  the  Pelasgians  have  been  attributed  the  mas- 
sive stone-walls  of  Tiryns  and  Mycenae,  and  other 
such  gigantic  monuments  of  the  Hellenic  aforetime. 
The  spade  has  likewise  uncovered  many  smaller 
items  of  the  supposed  Pelasgic  civilisation,  which 
unfolded  itself  for  some  centuries.  But  one  fact  is 
certain:  down  upon  this  primitive  Greek  people 
with  its  culture  swoops  another  hardier  but  less 
civilized  Greek  tribe  from  the  North,  which  takes 
its  victim's  place,  and  is  to  go  through  a  similar 
round  of  rise,  culmination  and  decadence. 

II.     The  Achaean  Irruption,  also  bursting  out  of 


HOMERIC  BACKGROUNDS  xxxvii 

the  barbarous  North  and  pouring  down  upon  the 
more  civilized  but  enervated  South,  is  the  second 
of  these  early  migratory  movements  in  the  Greek 
Peninsula.  It  unfolded  its  own  civilisation,  doubt- 
less in  conjunction  with  the  preceding  Pelasgic,  and 
it  too  must  have  lasted  some  centuries,  let  us  say 
three.  But  its  greatest  achievement  is  that  it 
evolved  somewhere  toward  its  close  or  possibly  a 
little  afterwards  the  poet  Homer,  who  has  cele- 
brated its  people  and  their  exploits  and  their  he- 
roes, with  such  creative  power  that  they  live  for 
us  to-day. 

Again  we  find  that  the  poet  locates  the  original 
Achaea  in  the  North,  in  the  Thessalian  region  over- 
looked by  Olympus  and  its  divine  dwellers,  whence 
flows  the  first  fountain  of  Hellenism.  Thence  it 
passes  to  the  Peloponnesus,  to  Argos  and  to  Mes- 
sene  and  even  to  Ithaca,  till  it  becomes  in  Homeric 
usage  a  collective  appellation  of  all  the  Greeks. 
Indeed  both  the  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey  employ  the 
compound  word  Panacliaean  to  stress  the  total  host 
of  the  Greeks.  This  all-uniting  term  for  much  di- 
vided Hellas  we  shall  find  occasion  to  use  after  the 
example  of  Homer. 

The  bloom  of  the  present  Achaean  period  was 
doubtless  the  age  of  wide-ruling  Agamemnon,  with 
his  realm  centering  in  golden  Mycenae.  At  the 
same  time  we  catch  the  traces  of  a  cultural  rift  be- 
tween the  North  and  South  as  separated  by  the 
Corinthian  Gulf — between  the  richer,  more  ad- 
vanced and  more  united  Southern  Achaea,   (Pelo- 


XXXviii  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

ponnesus)  and  the  poorer,  more  backward,  and 
more  disjoined  Northern  Achaea  (Thessaly),  Thus 
in  the  course  of  centuries  there  had  grown  to  be 
two  Achaeas  not  a  little  differing  in  civilisation,  but 
contrasted  specially  in  the  power  of  associating 
their  dispersed  communities.  That  later  Greek  po- 
litical ideal  known  as  autonomy,  seems  to  have  ger- 
minated in  this  Olyinpian  region,  home  of  the  Greek 
Gods.  It  is  likely  that  the  individual  was  more  sub- 
dued to  authority  and  so  less  self-assertive  in  the 
South  than  in  the  North.  Such  inferences  we  draw 
from  Homer's  own  account  in  the  Iliad  most  strik- 
ingly emphasized  in  its  First  Book,  where  her  opens 
his  poem  with  the  deep  bitter  scission  between  the 
Northern  hero  Achilles  and  the  Southern  leader 
Agamemnon.  This  was  not  a  mere  personal  quarrel 
between  two  men,  but  underneath  it  seethed  a 
grand  dissonance  and  disunion  between  the  two 
Greek  sections,  which  had  first  to  be  healed  before 
Troy  could  be  takien.  And  it  had  been  of  long 
growth  and  persistence,  not  a  sudden  spirt  of  in- 
dividual wrath.  Hence  results  the  decree  of  Zeus, 
the  overruling  Greek  Providence,  that  such  an  inner 
rift  must  be  reconciled  ere  Hellas  can  be  victorious 
in  her  outer  and  vaster  conflict  with  the  Asiatic  at 
Troy. 

This  brings  us  to  the  superlative,  verily  the 
world-historical  deed  done  by  this  Achaean  era: 
the  combination  of  quite  all  European  Greece 
against  the  Oriental  tendency  of  the  Tiojan  city 
and  of  its  considerable  body  of  subjects  and  allies 


HOMERIC  BACKGROUNDS  yyyiy 

in  Asia  Minor  and  Thrace.  To  associate  the  many 
scattered  and  indeed  centrifugal  members  of  the 
Hellenic  name  into  a  common  expedition  against  the 
distant  enemy  of  their  destiny  across  the  Egean, 
was  a  colossal  feat,  considering  the  time,  the  people, 
and  the  obstacles.  For  the  Greek,  both  mythically 
and  historically,  was  by  nature  dissociative,  psy- 
chically separative,  particularly  in  his  political 
character;  the  Greek  world  finally  went  to  pieces, 
and  fell  under  a  foreign  yoke  through  its  refusal 
to  affiliate  within  itself;  each  little  community 
would  stay  autonomous,  and  be  itself  alone  and  for 
itself  alone.  Strangely  this  early  Achaean  period 
overcame  for  a  time  such  inborn  spirit  of  disunion, 
the  deepest  native  trait  of  Hellas.  Even  more  dif- 
ficult seems  the  task  of  uniting  the  larger  opposite 
sections.  Northern  and  Southern  Achaea,  under 
one  headship  and  one  great  common  cause.  This 
work  seems  to  be  attributed  mainly  to  the  embassy 
of  Nestor  and  Ulysses  in  the  poem,  the  two  wisest 
Southerners,  whose  mission  to  Phthia  before  the 
Trojan  AVar  secured  the  North  to  the  Greek  cause, 
and  gained  for  it  the  Greek  hero  Achilles. 

Hence  we  may  well  suppose  that  the  grand  world- 
historical  consciousness  of  the  conflict  between  East 
and  West,  Asia  and  Greece,  Orient  and  Europe, 
began  to  dawn  in  that  twilit  Achaean  period,  and 
to  take  its  first  decided  shape  during  the  war  be- 
tween Troy  and  Greece,  though  we  can  discern  fit- 
ful prAnonitions  of  it  in  the  still  earlier  ^lythus, 
for  instance  in  the  pre-Trojan  sieges  of  Thebes.^ 


Xl  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

Such  is,  then,  the  underlying  world-consciousness 
uttered  first  by  Homer  beneath  his  mythical  mask 
in  a  small  corner  of  small  Europe,  but  now  re- 
sounding often  in  furious  battle-shouts  round  the 
globe — modern  echoes  we  may  deem  them,  of  that 
Greek  war-cry  heard  long  ago  before  the  towers  of 
Troy. 

But  amid  all  this  chaos  of  hate  and  bloodshed, 
let  us  not  forget  that  Homer  sings  likewise  of  rec- 
onciliation, both  between  the  clashing  Greek  indi- 
viduals Achilles  and  Agamemnon,  and  the  clashing 
Greek  sections  Northern  and  Southern,  and  be- 
tween the  clashing  Hellenic  nations,  Trojan  and 
Greek.  Indeed  the  deepest,  the  truly  eternal  sig- 
nificance of  the  Iliad,  as  well  as  the  ultimate  ground 
of  its  poetical  unity,  lies  in  its  movement  from  a 
double  enmity  to  a  double  placation.  The  first 
peace  of  the  poem  that  between  Achaea's  hero  and 
Achaea's  leader,  we  may  call  the  Pan-Achaean 
concord ;  but  the  second  and  larger  harmony,  even 
if  only  a  temporary  truce,  is  that  between  the  two 
contending  peoples,  the  Trojan  and  the  Greek,  as 
nobly  attuned  by  the  poet  in  the  last  Book  of  his* 
Iliad.  We  call  this  final  and  highest  concord  the 
Pan-Hellenic  ideal,  since  the  two  chief  and  earliest 
contending  offshoots  of  the  one  Hellenic  stock  are 
now  reconciled,  and  recognize  their  common  hu- 
manity, at  least  for  the  moment,  during  which 
happy,  warless,  concordant  interval  the  poet  brings 
his  poem,  the  Iliad,  to  its  close. 
»     But  we  are  not  to  forget  that  this  Achaean  time, 


HOMERIC  BACKGROUNDS  xH 

with  its  heroes  and  rulers  and  its  one  great  event, 
form  the  setting  of  Homer 's  poetry.  The  poet  looks 
back  at  it  from  his  own  later  degenerate  age  (so  he 
declares),  and  celebrates  and  doubtless  idealizes  its 
glories.  Indeed  we  may  well  conceive  that  what 
exhausted  the  Achaean  civilisation  and  its  people, 
and  led  to  their  decline  and  submergence,  was  their 
one  supremely  Great  Deed  sapping  all  their 
strength  and  wealth,  namely  the  Trojan  War  over 
the  sea.  A  like  decadence  and  atrophy  of  to-day's 
Greece  from  the  same  cause  seem  to  be  on  the  way 
just  now. 

But  Homer  lived,  according  to  his  own  repeated 
intimations,  in  the  succeeding  period,  amid  the  next 
grand  Irruption  of  barbarism  from  the  North, 
probably  at  its  earlier  stage.  Such  real  environ- 
ment of  the  poet  is  now  to  be  glanced  at. 

III.  The  Doric  Irruption  follows  the  Achaean 
period,  overwhelming  the  latter 's  sovereignty  and 
civilisation,  especially  in  the  Peloponnesus.  Again 
a  ruder  but  hardier  Hellenic  tribe  from  the  Thes- 
salian  North  streams  down  into  the  more  cultivated 
but  weaker  South,  and  takes  possession  of  the  same, 
and  stays  there  during  the  entire  illustrious  era  of 
Gi^eek  History,  in  which  it  played  a  famous  part. 
For  the  chief  branch  of  the  Dorians  were  the  his- 
toric Spartans  (unknown  to  Homer),  who  always 
celebrated  as  their  original  home  little  Doris  nestled 
in  the  mountainous  region  of  Thessaly,  and  retained 
their  rugged  adamantine  character  in  the  South 
through'  many  trials.    Homer 's  Achaeans  quite  dis- 


xlii  HOMER*^  LIFELINES 

appear  from  their  former  seats  of  glory  in  the  Pe- 
loponnesus, being  driven  into  one  narrow  strip 
along  the  Southern  coast  of  the  Corinthian  Gulf, 
where  they  emerge  in  the  last  stage  of  Greek  inde- 
pendence, and  win  a  small  shred  of  their  old  Ho- 
meric fame  by  forming  and  valiantly  maintaining 
for  years  the  Achaean  League.  There  is  little  doubt 
that  the  men  and  money  of  ancient  Achaea  in  the 
South  were  drained  off  by  the  long  and  exhaustive 
Trojan  War,  whereby  the  country  fell  an  easy  prey 
to  the  barbarous,  but  elemental  and  unspoiled 
hordes  of  the  Doric  North. 

Now  during  this  changeful  tumultuous  time  of 
transition  from  one  to  the  other  of  these  two  civ- 
ilisations, which  unsettled  all  Hellas,  and  especially 
started  the  Greek  migration  to  Asia  Minor,  Homer 
is  generally  supposed  to  have  lived,  and  to  have  ex- 
perienced therein  the  age's  upheaval,  against  which 
he  shows  more  than  one  sign  of  reaction.  He  too 
migrated  from  his  early  Hellenic  homeland,  whose 
mountainous  scenery  nevertheless  he  has  vividly 
impressed  upon  the  sublimer  parts  of  his  first  poem. 
To  be  sure  he  as  poet  will  not  directly  speak  of 
the  present  Doric  reality,  ugly  and  savage,  accord- 
ing to  him,  but  he  looks  back  upon  and  caresses  the 
vanished  ideal  world  of  Achaean  heroism,  and  its 
supreme  deed  done  at  Troy.  Some  such  mighty 
soul-forming  experience  of  an  epoch 's  overturn  and 
convulsion  underlies  his  work,  and  often  imparts 
to  it  the  elemental  forthrightness  of  Nature's  own 
stroke,  when  she  gets  angry.     He  lived  his  time's 


HOMERIC  BACKGROUNDS  xliii 

earthquake  and  responsively  his  own  too,  with 
which  he  at  his  volcanic  moments  shakes  us  to  a 
shudder  in  the  Iliad.  But  he  also  won  his  spirit 's 
serenity  and  recovery,  of  which  the  theme  attunes 
his  later  Odyssey. 

Such  are  the  three  barbarous  Irruptions  from  the 
North,  each  of  which  destroyed  an  old  pre-existent 
civilisation,  but  at  the  same  time  laid  the  basis  for 
a  new  cultural  development.  These  great  social 
changes  lie  imbedded  in  Homer,  and  form  the  pre- 
supposition and  foundation  of  his  whole  poetic 
fabric.  They  are  not  attested  by  direct  historic 
record,  though  the  Doric  migration  makes  its  pass- 
age into  accepted  Greek  History,  which  assigns  to 
it  a  fixed  date  (1104,  B.  C.  or  eighty  years  after  the 
capture  of  Troy,  according  to  the  old  Greek  chro- 
nologer  Eratosthenes,  who  calls  this  Doric  migra- 
tion the  return  of  the  Heracleids). 

IV.  The  complete  appreciation  of  Homer  re- 
quires that  we  look  not  only  at  what  happened  be- 
fore and  during  his  unhistoric  time,  but  also  that 
we  take  into  our  vision  what  occurred  after  him 
along  the  lines  of  his  achievement.  For  later  his- 
tory, whose  germs  he  often  descries  and  describes 
in  his  mythical  manner,  becomes  his  best  inter- 
preter, since  it  gives  as  realized  what  he  beheld 
more  or  less  in  embryo. 

Accordingly  it  illuminates  the  poet  to  take  note 
of  the  fourth  grand  Irruption,  the  Macedonian,  of 
a  less  civilized  but  fresh  and  vigorous  Hellenic  off- 
shoot, which  also  inarched  down  from  the  Olympian 


xliv  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

North  and  subjugated  all  Southern  Greece  during 
the  exactly  documented  historic  age.  That  is,  the 
next  overwhelming  Invasion  that  took  place  within 
the  Greek  Peninsula,  was  that  of  Macedon,  which 
was  headed  by  her  kings  Philip  and  Alexander, 
and  which  occurred  hundreds  of  years  after  the  last 
Doric  Invasion  with  its  many  displacements  and 
migrations.  The  wonderful  Greek  civilisation, 
which  has  shaped  the  secular  culture  of  the  Eu- 
ropean world  since  its  time,  budded,  bloomed,  and 
declined  during  the  period  which  lies  between  these 
two  Irruptions,  the  Dorian  and  the  Macedonian, 
both  of  which,  though  historical,  repeated  in  es- 
sence the  two  previous  mythical  Irruptions  of  the 
dim  aforetime,  the  Achaean  and  the  Pelasgic. 
These  likewise  we  glimpse  in  the  pages  of  Homer, 
who  thus  appears  to  have  seen  and  in  his  way  out- 
lined the  original  norm  of  all  such  successive  In- 
vasions, both  mythical  and  historical. 

It  is  well  known  that  the  Macedonian  monarch, 
Alexander  the  Great,  was  an  enthusiastic  student 
and  appreciator  of  Homer,  whose  Mythus  of  Troy 
the  Greek  soldier  would  realize  by  taking  not  merely 
one  little  Asiatic  town,  but  by  conquering  and  Hel- 
lenizing  Asia  itself.  So  we  have  the  right  to  think 
that  the  very  germinal  conflict  on  the  plains  of 
Troy  depicted  by  the  poet,  finds  its  supreme  Hel- 
lenic fulfilment  in  the  Macedonian  conquest  of  the 
Orient. 

Thus  Alexander,  uniting  in  one  mighty  dominant 
personality  the  hero  and  the  leader,  the  Achilles 


HOMERIC  BACKGROUNDS  xlv 

and  the  Agamemnon  of  the  Iliad,  which  he  so 
deeply  assimilated,  makes  actual  the  Homeric  ideal 
of  a  Hellas  triumphant  over  the  East,  and  gives  to 
what  seems  a  petty  local  conflict  an  universal  sig- 
nificance. Still  the  Macedonian  Irruption  with  its 
conquest  remains  Hellenic,  while  imparting  to  the 
Orient  the  civilisation  won  in  Greece.  But  this  na- 
tional or  racial  limit  is  now  to  be  transcended  in 
the  outreaching  evolution  of  History ;  the  Northern 
Irruption  breaks  in  from  outside  of  the  Greek  Pe- 
ninsula, and  becomes  non-Hellenic,  indeed  Euro- 
pean. Still  it  derives  from  Homer,  whom  we  now 
see  becoming  supra-national  in  his  larger  signifi- 
cance. 

V.  The  next  Irruption  of  the  primitive  untamed 
Barbarians  of  the  North  upon  the  civilized  South 
was  the  mightiest,  the  most  extended  in  space  and 
the  most  prolonged  in  time,  being  knowTi  in  His- 
tory as  the  Teutonic  migration  of  Northern  peoples. 
Not  merely  Northern  Greece  but  Northern  Europe 
precipitated  itself  against  the  entire  Mediterra- 
nean civilisation,  from  the  Egean  to  the  Atlantic, 
embracing  the  three  Southern  Peninsulas  Greek, 
Italic,  Gallic-Spanish.  The  whole  classic  world, 
like  the  Homeric  Achaea,  was  invaded,  over- 
whelmed, and  transformed  by  the  incoming  deluge 
of  uncivilized  peoples,  which  lasted  longer  than  a 
thousand  years,  and  took  possession  of  the  more 
highly  cultured  but  decadent  South  called  the  Ro- 
man Empire.  The  medieval  history  of  Europe  is 
largely  the  record  of  this  fierce,  diversified,  inces- 


xlvi  HOMER'8  LIFELINES 

sant  struggle  between  European  North  and  South, 
and  the  conflict  is  by  no  means  harmonized  to-day. 

But  as  we  are  now  looking  at  Homer  and  follow- 
ing up  the  historic  fulfilment  of  his  work,  we  should 
note  that  this  last  European  Irruption  may  be  seen 
germinating  in  his  poem,  and  taking  there  its 
primeval  shape,  as  we  have  already  observed.  For 
Homer's  song  must  be  seen  unfolding  along  with 
civilisation  itself,  if  he  be  his  race's  supremely 
creative  poet.  In  his  vision  lies  the  foreshow  of 
what  is  to  happen  down  the  future  centuries.  So 
it  is  that  History  becomes  his  best  and  ultimate 
interpreter. 

Five  times  we  have  observed  this  barbaric  Irrup- 
tion of  the  uncivilized  savage  of  the  North  pounc- 
ing upon  the  civilized  but  enfeebled  South,  which 
fact  we  find  already  in  the  remoter  historic  back- 
ground of  Homer.  And  indeed  such  Invasions 
have  occurred  far  oftener  than  five  times  if  we 
take  into  account  the  lesser  attacks.  Is  this  re- 
curring round  of  victory,  degeneracy,  and  then 
evanishment  of  the  old  victors  into  the  new,  a  law 
of  History,  especially  of  the  History  of  Europe? 
Was  the  late  World-War  simply  another  fresh 
phasis  of  the  same  old  cycle,  in  which  we  at  present 
are  merely  brief  transitory  atoms  1  It  would  seem 
that  civilisation,  as  it  has  wrought  hitherto,  while 
refining  the  spirit,  enervates  the  body,  and  that  the 
savage  stock  from  the  primordial  uncorrupted  folk- 
life  brings  the  fresh  generative  material,  into  which 
every  cultural  nation  has  to  be  dipped  for  renewal 


HOMERIC  BACKGROUNDS  xlvii 

after  having  gone  through  its  cycle  of  rise,  bloom, 
and  decay. 

Such  a  recurring  baptism  into  the  primordial 
elemental  stuff  of  the  World's  civilisation  has  to 
take  place  when  it  has  used  up  a  city,  a  people,  or 
a  race.  Thus  even  the  savage  has  his  very  impor- 
tant part  in  the  historic  development  of  total  hu- 
manity, for  it  is  the  uncorrupted  uncivilized  man 
who  is  to  furnish  the  fresh  ethnic  protoplasm  for 
starting  the  new  civilized  people.  Civilisation  is  in- 
deed a  hard,  quite  pitiless  master,  or  has  been  so  up 
to  date — how  many  nations  has  it  seized  for  use, 
worn  out,  and  thrown  away  during  its  historic 
record!  Thus  there  seems  to  be  a  superintending 
power  which  compels  the  individual  as  person,  or  as 
nation,  and  even  as  race  to  exist  and  to  pass  away 
for  the  universal  goal  of  total  mankind.  Whereat 
the  protest  may  be  heard:  can  not  civilisation  be 
brought  to  change  its  process  and  become  a  little 
more  human  if  not  humane  ? 

Hence  at  this  moment  the  question  rises  with 
over- whelming  poignancy:  Is  there  to  be  still  an- 
other savage  Invasion  from  the  North,  possibly 
more  destructive,  more  bloody  and  barbarous,  and 
perchance  more  lasting  than  any  of  those  hitherto 
recorded?  Is  civilisation  to  take  another  dip  into 
the  primal  ethnic  protoplasm,  say  now  the  Slavic, 
with  possible  co-operation  from  the  Teuton  and  the 
Turk?  For  Russia  to-day  is  reported  to  have  the 
largest  army  in  Europe,  fully  equipped,  and  well- 
disciplined,  ready  to  make  a  tiger-spring  upon  the 


xlviii  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

older  and  more  civilized  portion  of  Europe.  All 
the  world  is  gazing  at  the  scene  and  wondering, 
what  next  ?  At  any  rate  all  the  world  has  just  seen 
at  the  Genoa  conference  Germany  and  Russia  unit- 
ing to  make  a  treaty  in  defiance  of  the  other  nations 
there  assembled.  What  does  the  omen  signify  to 
the  future  ?  Let  old  Time  work  out  the  answer,  for 
that  is  his  business. 

VI.  Finally  we  should  not  omit  to  mention  the 
poet 's  most  recent  illumination,  namely  to-day 's  Ir- 
ruption from  the  North  against  the  South  of  Eu- 
rope, as  the  last  repetition  up  to  date  of  that  an- 
cient Greek  germinal  conflict,  in  which  Homer  was 
involved  and  seemingly  evolved.  In  the.  World- 
War  just  concluded,  Teutonia  again  put  on  her 
armor  and  swept  down  upon  those  Mediterranean 
peoples,  whose  civilisation  she  had  first  assailed  his- 
torically some  two  thousand  years  ago.  For  Italy, 
France,  and  finally  Greece,  when  Constantine  the 
Last  had  been  gotten  out  of  the  way,  were  all  ar- 
rayed in  opposition  to  the  advancing  German  assail- 
ants of  the  North.  With  both  these  two  central 
antagonists  were  conjoined  other  combatants  of  the 
East  and  of  the  West,  so  that  the  conflict  took  the 
huge  proportion  of  a  World- War,  as  we  hear  it  com- 
monly named. 

Such,  then,  is  to-day's  Northern  Irruption  still 
driving  Southward  in  the  main,  as  it  did  when  it 
started  long  before  Homer's  time  a  wee  Greek 
embryon  now  barely  discernible  with  a  strong  eye 
through  the  twilight   of  antiquity.     But   Homer 


HOMER'S  MYTHU8  OF  TROY  xlix 

knows  of  it  and  mentions  it  as  something  antece- 
dent to  his  own  grand  Mythus  of  Troy,  with  which 
it  is  deftly  interwoven.  For  that  Mythus  is  the 
theme  upon  whose  elaboration  he  concentrates  all 
his  creative  energies,  and  which  he  has  made  the 
greatest  and  best  known  of  its  kind  on  our  planet. 
For  like  all  supreme  poets,  Homer  in  conception 
and  expression  is  mythical,  and  hence  some  special 
consideration  must  be  given  by  the  outreaching 
student  to  his  Mythus. 

IV. 

Homer's  Mythus  of  Troy. 

From  the  historic  Present  before  our  eyes,  let  us 
turn  and  look  back  at  the  remote  mythical  Past  and 
see  if  the  two  extremes  are  not  deeply  interrelated. 
We  have  just  enthroned  History  as  the  best,  truest 
and  longest-lived  interpreter  of  Homer  and  his  Tro- 
jan Mythus,  and  have  watched  their  completed  ful- 
filment in  the  events  of  our  own  time.  We  may 
again  repeat  that  the  Trojan  War  is  3000  years 
old  more  or  less,  and  is  just  now  bursting  forth 
into  a  renewed,  far  wider-spread  and  more  glow- 
ing intensity. 

In  view  of  the  circumstances,  the  reflection  will 
keep  busying  itself  over  the  future:  Hvimer  will 
come  to  his  full  meaning  and  attain  his  supreme 
universality  when  the  whole  globe  gets  to  fighting 
his  Trojan  War — the  entire  Orient  versus  the  en- 
tire Occident.     Just  now  some  such  prospect  ap- 


1  HOMER'S  LIFELINES 

pears  looming  above,  obscurely  but  portentously, 
on  its  way  toward  realisation.  For  at  present  only 
a  half  of  the  earth-ball,  about  one  hemisphere,  is 
more  or  less  directly  involved  in  this  Trojan  con- 
flict (as  we  may  still  label  it)  and  seemingly  can- 
not finish  it,  being  merely  a  moiety  of  total  hu- 
manity, all  of  which  has  yet  to  pass  through  this 
deepest  ultimate  dualism  of  the  World's  History, 
and  after  such  long  trial  to  reconcile  it  for  all  and 
forever.  Even  then  we  may  conceive  that  Homer 
will  have  to  be  read  still  as  the  first  germinal  ut- 
terance of  the  race's  profoundest  and  most  sig- 
nificant terrestrial  experience. 

But  it  now  stands  next  in  line  to  give  a  quick 
turn  back  from  the  instant  Now  to  the  far-off  Then 
of  this  Trojan  affair,  and  to  take  a  good  look  at  the 
poet's  Mythus  of  Troy — My  thus  we  say,  not  myth 
or  even  mythe,  which  words,  though  derived  from 
the  same  Greek  vocable,  have  obscured,  in  their 
English  usage,  the  needful  shading  of  the  original 
term. 

Somebody  has  said  that  the  most  famous,  as  well 
as  the  most  resultful,  of  all  wars  known  to  history 
was  just  the  old  mythical  war  of  Troy  recorded  by 
the  poet  Homer.  This  seemingly  contradictory 
statement  brings  to  light  a  fundamental  problem 
for  the  comprehension  of  the  ancient  Trojan  con- 
flict :  was  it  historical  or  mythical,  or  perchance  a 
good  deal  of  both  1  Our  greatest  modem  historian 
of  Greece,  George  Grote,  banishes  it  from  his  sunny 
Olympus  of  History,  and  he  whelms  it  down,  as  if 


HOMER'S  MYTHU8  OF  TROY  U 

he  were  another  Zeus,  into  the  dark  factless  Tar- 
tarus of  Mythology,  the  abode  (according  to  his 
judgment)  of  all  such  pre-historic  monsters.  Still 
Grote,  in  defiance  of  his  first  universal  damnation, 
later  summons  up  and  sets  forth  certain  elements 
of  the  mythical  Homeric  poems,  which  elements  he 
acknowledges  to  be  historical,  though  documented 
only  by  Mythology.  We  side  with  the  illustrious 
historian  of  Greece  against  himself  in  this  last  at- 
titude of  his  toward  the  Mythus,  though  he  ought 
to  have  made  it  a  principle,  not  an  exception,  in  his 
work.  That  is,  every  great  legend  evolved  and 
preserved  for  ages  by  the  folk,  has  in  it  two  con- 
stituents. Fact  and  Fiction,  History  and  Fable,  or 
an  historic  content  in  an  imaginative  form.  So  the 
supreme  question  with  the  fully  appreciative  reader 
of  Homer  is  to  see  and  to  enjoy  and  to  appropriate 
both  greatnesses  of  the  double-winged  poet,  his 
reality  and  his  ideality — to  behold  the  deepest  per- 
sonal experiences  of  his  life  creating  their  splendid 
poetic  vesture  through  his  imagination. 

Now  Homer's  greatest  production,  indeed  his  sole 
one  in  the  large  sense,  is  the  Mythus  of  Troy,  with 
its  evolution  and  epical  sublimation  into  his  two 
poems,  the  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey.  For  in  truth  we 
may  say  that  he  made  the  Trojan  story  as  we  read 
it  to-day;  or  better,  he  made  it  over,  organized  it 
and  transformed  it  out  of  its  crude,  disconnected, 
and  locally  dispersed  materials  which  were  scat- 
tered far  and  wide  throughout  all  Greece.  Such 
we  deem  his  first  grand  act  of  poetic  transfigura- 


lii  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

tion:  he  unified  mythical  Hellas  with  its  seething 
recalcitrant  mass  of  local  tales  and  heroes  pertain- 
ing to  Troy  and  to  the  Hellenic  conflict  against  the 
Orient.  Just  as  he  united  the  many  Gods  under 
the  one  Olympian  Zeus  for  the  Greek  religious  con- 
sciousness, so  he  united  the  many  folk-tales  under 
the  one  all-inclusive  Mythus  of  Troy  for  Greek  Art, 
both  poetic  and  plastic.  As  he  has  shown  himself 
monotheistic,  so  he  in  the  same  spirit  cannot  help; 
showing  himself  monomythical.  Unity  we  find 
everywhere  as  the  deepest  aspiration  of  the  Ho- 
meric soul:  he  will  also  unite  and  transmute  into 
one  epic  language  the  many  Greek  dialects,  per- 
haps the  most  unique  of  all  linguistic  feats.  And 
what  does  the  Iliad  but  reunite  and  reconcile  the 
angry  Achilles  with  his  own  Achaean  folk  first,  and 
then  with  his  whole  Hellenic  race  including  Troy? 
And  the  return  of  Ulysses  is  his  return  to  unity  and 
harmony  with  his  family  and  his  people,  and  him- 
self, after  long  separation  and  estrangement.  In- 
deed Homer's  own  name  hints  the  adjuster,  the  or- 
ganiser, the  reconciler — the  man  who  puts  together, 
though  other  meanings  have  been  foisted  upon  its 
natural  etymology. 

But  let  us  haste  to  add  that  the  universal  poet 
does  not  narrowly  confine  himself  to  the  single 
Mythus  of  Troy;  on  the  contrary  he  makes  li  the 
grand  receptacle  of  quite  all  the  mythical  treasures 
of  his  fantasy-gifted  Hellas.  Much  he  tells  about 
the  life  and  exploits  of  the  great  national  hero  of 
the  Greek  people,  Hercules;  nor  does  he  forget  the 


HOMER'S  MYTHU8  OF  TROY  HH 

Athenian  hero  Theseus,  both  belonging  to  the  afore- 
time. The  ship  Argo  with  its  wonderful  voyage  and 
voyagers,  as  well  as  the  Calydonian  boar-hunt  in 
far-western  Aetolia,  old  tales  of  long-ago,  he  inter- 
weaves into  his  newer  and  vaster  Trojan  story.  In 
general,  the  poet  will  make  his  Mythus  of  Troy  the 
one  all-embracing  organized  receptacle  of  Greek 
Mythology.  We  do  not  say,  however,  that  he  has 
collected  every  little  shred  of  folk-lore  which  his 
people  have  made,  and  put  it  into  his  collection, 
like  a  modem  scientific  observer,  like  a  Grimm  for 
instance.  On  the  contrary  he  evidently  knew  un- 
worthy stories  which  he  has  not  told  us ;  we  have  to 
think  that  now  and  then  we  catch  him  rejecting 
hideous  unclassic  accounts  which  others,  especially 
Hesiod,  have  transmitted  to  us  from  mythical  an- 
tiquity. Homer  is  not  without  a  considerable  dis- 
play of  artistic  judgment  for  the  reader  who 
watches  his  likes  and  dislikes;  we  may  detect  his' 
innate  delight  in  a  certain  class  of  words  and  of 
images,  in  lofty  locutions  and  lowly  turns,  as  well 
as  in  Olympian  legends  and  humble  fairy-tales. 
Far  more  of  conscious  design,  and  of  art,  and  even 
of  artificiality  he  has  than  he  usually  gets  credit 
for.  Homeric  simplicity,  yes,  by  all  the  Gods ;  but 
let  us  not  forget  his  frequent  pompous  big- wordi- 
ness, which  sometimes  swells  over  into  turgidity,  as 
is  the  case  also  with  Shakespeare  not  unseldom. 

But  what  are  the  main  details  of  this  Mythus  of 
Troy,  out  of  which  flow  Homer's  two  poems,  and 
which  is,  therefore,  the  fountain-head  of  European 


liv  HOMER'8  LIFE-LINES 

literature?  Paris,  the  son  of  the  Trojan  King 
Priam,  visiting  the  Spartan  King  Menelaus,  has 
eloped  with  the  latter 's  wife  Helen,  and,  taking 
along  with  her  a  good  deal  of  property  not  his  own, 
has  fled  and  found  refuge  in  Troy.  An  embassy  of 
Greeks  demands  the  return  of  the  woman  and  of 
the  stolen  wealth,  but  is  refused  by  the  Trojans. 
Thereupon  follow  the  preparations  for  war  under 
the  leadership  of  King  Agamemnon,  brother  of 
Menelaus.  Ten  years  are  said  to  have  been  spent 
in  getting  the  expedition  ready,  which  at  last,  after 
many  hindrances,  sets  sail  from  Aulis  on  the  Beo- 
tian  sea  coast  across  the  Egean,  and  in  time  reaches 
the  Trojan  plain.  Such  is  the  simple  kernel  of  the 
story  round  which  have  swathed  themselves  for 
thousands  of  years  all  sorts  of  elaborations,  since 
the  Mythus  of  Troy  with  its  tale  of  Helen  is  still 
told  to-day  under  ever-shifting  new  shapes  in  all 
civilized  tongues.  Strange  fascination!  The 
I)oetic  mind  of  Europe  seeks  to  mirror  itself  at 
every  important  node  of  its  evolution  in  some  form 
of  that  antique  legend  of  Paris  and  the  runaway 
Greek  wife.  Well  may  the  vigilant  reader  keep  a 
keen  look-out  for  the  reason  of  this  unique  phe- 
nomenon. 

More  than  100,000  men  in  1186  ships,  according 
to  the  muster-roll  set  down  in  the  Second  Book  of 
the  Iliad,  constituted  the  Greek  army,  which  far 
outnumbered  the  Trojans  and  their  allies.  The 
unanimity  of  continental  Greece  from  Olympus  in 
the  North  to  Nestor's  Pylus  in  the  South,  including 


HOMER'S  MYTHU8  OF  TROY  ly 

the  Western  islands  and  some  of  the  Southern,  as 
Rhodes  and  Crete,  is  the  ever-renewed  surprise  of 
this  undertaking,  for  the  Greek  people  were  never 
again  so  united  in  spirit  and  in  action  during  all 
their  history.  And  wholly  spontaneous  seems  this 
enormous  popular  urge  to  capture  the  city  and  re- 
store Helen,  even  if  the  enthusiasm  was  started 
through  embassies.  But  is  she  worth  the  outlay? 
Hence  from  old  Greece  till  now  rises  the  question : 
what  does  Helen  stand  for  to  those  100,000  Greeks 
ready  to  die  in  her  caus«,  whatever  that  may  be? 
A  beautiful  but  dubious  woman,  repentant  indeed 
and  longing  for  her  Greek  home,  yet  not  so  bad-off 
in  Troy — the  Helen  problem  will  come  up  again. 

Another  decidedly  less  ideal  inquiry  pertains  to 
the  feeding  of  such  a  large  number  of  men  so  far 
from  home  supplies.  The  same  difficulty  occurred 
to  the  ancient  historian  Thucydides,  who  was  also 
a  soldier,  and  knew  that  an  army  had,  first  of  all, 
to  be  provisioned  before  it  could  fight  a  single  day, 
not  to  speak  of  ten  years,  the  duration  of  Troy's 
siege.  His  solution  was  that  a  considerable  part  of 
the  expeditionary  force  had  to  do  what  they  did  at 
home,  namely  cultivate  the  soil  for  a  living.  He 
even  pointed  out  their  probable  tilth-field,  the 
nearby  Chersonese.  Prosaically  he  adds :  could  the 
whole  army  have  devoted  itself  to  fighting  alone,  the 
war  would  have  soon  ended. 

The  evidence  of  the  poem,  however,  shows  no 
such  agricultural  labor  performed  by  its  soldiers. 
But  it  does  indicate  many  times  over  that  the  army 


lyi  VOMER'S  LIFE-LINjES 

''lived,  off  the  country",  in  to-day's  military 
phrase ;  all  the  neighboring  lands  were  plundered 
of  their  food  and  cattle  by  foraging  Greek  bands; 
the  unwalled  villages  were  captured,  the  women 
and  children  enslaved,  the  men  slain,  though  doubt- 
less the  most  of  these  were  absent  fighting  in  the 
Trojan  ranks.  Especially  Achilles  is  represented 
as  having  taken  many  such  defenceless  towns, 
though  the  hero  found  his  limit  when  ^  he  ran 
against  the  walls  of  Troy,  which  he  could  not  batter 
down  nor  surmount.  The  Iliad,  as  we  all  remem- 
ber, starts  with  the  quarrel  between  the  hero 
Achilles  and  his  leader  Agamemnon  over  two  such 
captive  women. 

Now  this  fact  of  a  general  pillage  and  devastation 
of  the  country  has  an  important  bearing  upon  the 
future  course  of  Greek  History,  and  furnishes  one 
emphatic  proof  that  Homer  has  an  historical  sub- 
strate which  cannot  be  neglected  with  impunity. 
The  whole  coast  of  Asia  Minor  from  the  Troad  to 
Lycia  must  have  been  quite  overrun  and  depopu- 
lated during  this  long  siege  of  Troy.  Its  inhab- 
itants in  the  main  sympathized  with  the  Trojans, 
as  we  see  by  their  muster-roll  in  the  Catalogue  of 
the  Ships  (Second  Book).  We  hear  nothing  in  the 
Iliad  of  those  large  and  rich  islands  S-nmos  and 
Chios;  Lesbos  is  spoken  of  as  ravaged  by  the 
Greeks.  On  the  whole  the  neighboring  neutrals,  if 
there  were  any,  would  not  be  spared  in  the  clashes 
and  necessities  of  such  ^  war. 

Accordingly  after  the  fall  of  Troy  starts  the 


HOMER'S  MYTHUS  OF  TROY  lyii 

great  migration  from  continental  Greece  to  these 
largely  dispeopled  but  fertile  regions.  The  Aeolic, 
Ionic,  and  Doric  colonists  now  make  their  appear- 
ance in  history  and  take  possession  of  the  more  or 
less  vacant  coast  of  Anatolia,  and  the  near  islands. 
These  colonists  we  find  its  owners  in  historic  times. 
Now  there  is  a  persistent  tradition  that  Homer  took 
part  in  this  migration,  quitting  probably  his  earlier 
Thessalian  home  and  finally  reaching  Smyrna, 
where  he  is  said  to  have  composed  his  Iliad  a  good 
many  years  after  the  Trojan  War,  one  or  even  two 
hundred  (some  say  more).  Undoubtedly  the  lo- 
cality was  full  of  the  fame  of  the  grand  event  of  the 
aforetime,  with  its  many  legends,  and  the  poet  often 
shows  himself  looking  back  at  that  heroic  age  with 
a  feeling  of  the  decadence  of  his  own  age  in  com- 
parison. But  the  time's  advantage  for  him  was 
that  the  myth-making  spirit  of  the  folk  had  created 
and  amassed  a  vast  material  of  its  tales  and  songs, 
which  the  poet  found  ready  for  his  organizing  mind 
and  poetic  transfiguration.  Yet  the  strange  fact 
keeps  haunting  us  that  he  never  once  mentions  this 
grand  migratory  movement  of  the  older  European 
Hellenes, to  their  newer  Anatolian  homes,  though 
he  must  have  been  a  part  and  indeed  a  product  of 
it,  as  both  the  content  and  the  speech  of  the  Iliad 
imply,  if  we  look  discriminatingly  into  their 
genesis. 

Another  enduring  historic  effect  of  this  long  Tro- 
jan War  is  to  be  found  in  continental  Greece, 
which  must  have  been  drained  of  its  fighting  men 


Iviii  HOMER'S  LIFELINES 

and  of  its  accumulated  wealth  by  thejrepeated  levies 
for  the  desperate  struggle  with  tha  Orient. 
Through  the  poetic  narrative  and  later  legend  are 
scattered  many  hints  which  imply  that  the  losses 
of  the  grand  army  in  the  field  had  to  be  recruited 
from  the  homeland;  otherwise  the  struggle  could 
not  have  lasted  ten  years,  or  much  longer  than  one 
year.  The  result  was  that  the  Argive  (or  Achaean) 
territory,  especially  the  Peloponnesus,  became  much 
weakened  in  men  and  means.  Strong  golden  My- 
cenae had  spent  both  her  strength  and  her  gold, 
and  her  wide-ruling  King  Agamemnon  was  slaugh- 
tered in  his  own  palace  on  his  return  from  Troy — 
a  theme  for  grand  tragedy  both  Greek  and  Roman. 
But  the  historic  result  was  that  again  a  Northern 
rude  but  hardy  and  warlike  tribe  of  Greeks,  the 
Dorians,  descended  upon  the  exhausted  Pelopon- 
nesus and  took  possession  of  it  for  the  coming  time 
of  historic  Hellas,  displacing  the  far-famed  Ho- 
meric Achaeans  or  Argives.  Thus  Greek  history 
tells  chiefly  of  the  Doric  deeds  done  by  Southern 
Greece,  as  recounted  on  the  pages  of  her  supreme 
historians  Herodotus  and  Thucydides.  But  Homer 
is  wholly  silent  about  this  cardinal  historic  event, 
though  he  must  have  seen  at  least  the  beginning  of 
the  great  Doric  invasion.  This  is  what  ended  his 
glorious  Achaean  world,  which  he  has  celebrated 
with  such  detailed  splendor  in  an  idealizing  strain 
of  reminiscence.  For  the  poet's  mood  in  the  Iliad, 
whenever  he  lets  it  be  seen,  is  regretfully  retro- 
spective. 


HOMER'fi  MYTHU8  OF  TROY  Hx 

Thus  Homer's  song  turns  away  from  the  two 
most  important  occurrences  of  early  Greek  History : 
the  eastward  migration  to  the  Anatolian  coast  with 
its  adjacent  islands,  and  the  southward  invasion  of 
the  Peloponnesus  by  the  Northern  Dorians,  who 
make  themselves  the  successors  of  the  Homeric 
Achaeans  (or  Argives).  Yet  tradition  states  and 
his  poems  imply  that  Homer  must  have  seen  at 
least  the  start  of  this  new  historic  era  of  Hellas, 
which,  however,  he  dislikes  and  deems  degenerate. 
Hence  he  as  poet  flees  back  to  the  antecedent  myth- 
ical time,  which  becomes  the  splendid  home  of  his 
imagination,  and  he  ideally  escapes  out  ot  the  dis- 
agreeable reality  now  taking  place  around  him 
everywhere  in  Greece,  east  and  west.  In  the  retro- 
spect of  a  century  (let  us  say)  he  could  observe  the 
central  position  and  the  growing  significarce  of  the 
Mythus  of  Troy  not  only  for  his  own  age,  but  also, 
as  it  would  now  seem,  for  all  futurity. 

Greece  produced  pre-eminently  two  forms  of  na- 
tional self-expression,  Mythology  and  History,  not 
to  speak  of  her  Art  and  Science.  She  is  the  great- 
est mythologist  that  ever  lived ;  in  that  activitj^  she 
has  proved  herself  immortal;  we  in  English  use 
her  mythical  creations  to-day  far  more  than  our 
own.  Every  people  mythologises,  especially  at  a 
certain  stage  of  its  culture,  hence  there  are  many 
mythologies  of  greater  or  less  excellence.  But  it  is 
agreed  that  the  Greek  Mythology  is  the  best,  the 
most  beautiful,  and  the  most  universal ;  in  fact  the 
spirit  of  Greece  is  more  adequately  realised  in  its 


Ix  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

Mythus  than  in  any  other  of  its  forms  of  expres- 
sion. Why?  It  was  shaped  mainly  and  centrally 
by  Homer,  who  has  shown  himself  to  be  the  most 
original  poetic  genius  that  has  yet  appeared.  So 
the  loyal  student  of  the  poet  must  love  Mythology, 
assimilate  it,  even  believe  in  it  as  an  utterance  of 
the  Divine  Order  unto  man. 

Here  we  may  repeat  that  Homer 's  Mythus  of 
Troy  was  the  most  comprehensive  one  in  the  whole 
range  of  Greek  Mythology,  also  the  profoundest  of 
meaning,  which,  let  us  say  once  more,  was  the  con- 
flict between  Orient  and  Occident,  embryonically 
world-historical  as  we  have  come  to  know  in  the 
recent  or  still  present  World- War.  That  is,  after 
the  poet  time  has  sought  and  wrought  to  make  this 
Mythus  of  Troy  universal,  so  we  may  call  his 
achievement  herein  pan-mythical. 

It  is  at  this  point  specially  that  we  are  brought 
to  recognize  Homer  as  the  most  original  poetic 
genius  of  Europe,  or  perhaps  of  the  Race.  For  he 
created  his  own  Mythology,  undoubtedly  out  of  al- 
ready existent  popular  materials  handed  down  to 
him,  organizing  and  poetizing  the  Greek  Mythus 
into  that  lasting  form  which  it  preserves  essen- 
tially to  this  day.  No  poet  before  or  after  him  has 
ever  done  quite  such  a  grandly  creative  feat  as  that. 
And  still  further,  the  greatest  poets  succeeding  him 
(Dante,  Shakespeare,  Goethe)  have  adopted,  of 
course  with  changes  of  their  own,  and  have  assimi- 
lated in  their  work,  his  mythical  shapes.  Thus  he 
not  only  made  the  Greek  Mythology  for  himself, 


HOMER'8  MYTHU8  OF  TROY  Ixi 

but  for  others,  made  it  eternal,  at  least  according 
to  our  present  outlook.  And  also  it  still  works 
creatively,  generating  new  poems  with  the  ages. 

This  fact  it  is  worth  our  while  to  expand  a  little 
more  fully,  confirming  the  same  from  the  three 
greatest  poets  after  Homer.  In  the  first  place 
Dante  is  saturated  with  the  Classic  Mythus,  which 
he  derives  directly  from  the  Latin  poets,  Yirgil  and 
Ovid  in  the  main,  who,  however,  took  their  myth- 
ical material  from  the  Greek  stream  flowing  down 
time  out  of  Homer  as  fountain.  And  Homer  also 
furnished  to  Dante  the  germ  of  the  latter 's  grand 
Mythus  of  the  Apocalypse,  which  is  the  mythical 
framework  of  his  Divine  Comedy,  in  the  descent  of 
Ulysses  to  Hades  {Odyssey,  Book  XI).  Our  su- 
preme Anglo-Saxon  poet,  William  Shakespeare, 
shows  everywhere  in  his  works  not  only  his  ex- 
ternal knowledge  but  his  very  soul's  assimilation  of 
Greek  Mythology.  And  once  he  would  overmake 
and  re-poetize  Homer  himself  in  a  deep-thoughted 
but  much-scattered  drama  {Troilus  and  Cressida). 
But  the  most  devoted  follower  and  transformer  of 
Homer  and  the  Greek  Mythus  was  Goethe,  who  en- 
titled himself  a  Homerid,  or  son  of  Homer,  renew- 
ing antique  mythical  forms  of  Hellas  like  Iphi- 
genia,  and  even  calling  up  Homer's  Helen  to  fresh 
life  and  fate  in  the  Second  Part  of  Faust. 

Thus  we  have  to  think  that  Homer  to  a  large  ex- 
tent created  the  lasting  ideal  shapes  of  future 
poetry,  for  they  fleet  through  all  poetic  expression 
since  his  time.    Moreover  other  arts  besides  the 


Ixii  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

poetic  take  their  origin  from  his  M3i;hus,  for  in- 
stance Greek  sculpture  and  painting  with  their 
modern  successors.  Nor  should  we  forget  that  his 
special  structure  of  song,  the  epic,  has  reproduced 
itself  thousandfold  after  his  pattern,  which  we  may 
see  even  in  the  highest  secondary  poets,  such  as  Vir- 
gil, Milton,  Tasso.  Yes,  Homer  must  be  acclaimed 
the  most  original  poetic  genius  of  our  planet. 

But  other  Mythologies  besides  the  Greek  have 
frequently  been  taken  up  by  the  literary  mind,  in 
the  way  of  change  or  perhaps  reaction.  For  in- 
stance, the  Celtic  Mythus  of  Arthur  and  his  Round 
Table  has  always  had  its  devotees  as  well  as  its  re- 
productions not  only  in  British  but  also  in  Euro- 
pean literature,  and  it  still  is  sending  forth  notable 
flowers.  Then  the  Teutonic  Mythus  has  had  in  the 
past  century  a  very  significant  series  of  revivals  in 
Richard  Wagner's  Tetralogy  (Ring  of  the  Nihe- 
lungs) y  and  in  Goethe's  unique  poem  (Faust),  not 
to  speak  of  less  famous  elaborations.  But  perhaps 
the  strongest  reaction  against  the  Classic  Ideal  in 
favor  of  the  realistic  present  is  found  in  the  mod- 
em novel. 

Still  after  a  time  of  revolt  and  dissipation  in  the 
immediate  transitory  appearances  of  life,  there  is 
always  a  return  of  literature  to  Homer  and  his 
works  for  a  fresh  baptism  into  what  is  eternal  of 
the  written  word,  eternal  through  the  test  of  thou- 
sands of  years.  It  is  true  that  the  Homeric  The- 
ology is  gone ;  it  hardly  survived  as  a  faith  the  po- 
litical life  of  old  Greece  except  in  spots.    But  the 


HOMER'8  OTHER  MYTHICAL  SIEGES       Ixiii 

Homeric  Mythology  as  an  utterance  of  the  human 
spirit  in  art  and  poetry,  is  with  us  still,  for  its  heart 
is  that  siege  of  Troy  which  we  have  so  often  em- 
phasized as  going  on  to-day,  with  an  intensity  and 
extensity  greater  now  than  in  any  aforetime. 


Homer's  Other  Mythical  Sieges. 

The  siege  of  the  walled  city  was  the  great  mili- 
tary act  of  Homer's  time.  That  of  Troy  was  only 
one,  but  the  last  and  culminating  one  storied  in  the 
ancient  Greek  Mythus.  For  the  city  with  its  forti- 
fied enclosure,  to  which  the  people  could  flee  for 
safety  from  sudden  foray  or  protracted  invasion, 
was  the  final  refuge  and  salvation  of  the  folk-life 
when  assailed.  Most  famous  in  Greek  History  was 
the  siege  of  Athens  during  the  Peloponnesian  War. 
This  historical  siege  as  recounted  even  by  prosaic 
Thucydides  has  many  striking  basic  similarities  to 
the  mythical  siege  of  Troy  as  recounted  by  poetic 
Homer.  Indeed  they  are  quite  alike  in  their  gen- 
eral outline,  and  may  well  be  paralleled  by  the  re- 
searchful  student. 

Now,  Homer,  besides  that  of  Troy  has  told  us  in 
his  poems  about  three  other  memorable  sieges  of 
cities  which  took  place  in  the  dim  mythical  period 
before  the  Trojan  War,  and  which  hint,  as  far  as 
can  be  made  out,  the  same  underlying  conflict. 
Thus  they  may  be  deemed  faint  preludings  of  the 


Ixiv  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

greater  siege  to  come,  twilit  forecasts  of  the  Greek 
folk-soul  in  regard  to  its  supreme  task  for  all  time. 
Before  the  age  of  Priam,  his  Troy  had  gotten  a 
bad  name  on  account  of  the  perfidy  of  his  unworthy 
father  Laomedon,  who,  after  having  received  faith- 
ful service  from  two  Greek  Gods,  Apollo  and  Po- 
seidon, refused  them  their  promised  recompense 
and  drove  them  off  with  insults,  threatening  to  sell 
them  into  slavery,  **and  the  ears  of  both  of  us 
Gods  he  vowed  to  shear  off  with  his  sword. ' '  And 
yet  it  was  one  of  these  deities,  the  mighty  Earth- 
shaker,  who  had  built  for  him  ''these  city- walls 
that  Troy  might  remain  unstormed"  {Iliad  XXI, 
443).  Whereupon  Poseidon  in  his  wrath  sent  one 
of  his  huge  sea-monsters  to  destroy  the  people  and 
their  fruits.  King  Laomedon,  frightened  if  not 
repentant,  consults  the  oracle,  who  tells  him  that 
his  daughter  Hesione  must  be  handed  over  to  the 
devouring  beast.  But  the  universal  Greek  hero 
Hercules  then  happening  along  at  the  right  con- 
juncture, rescues  the  king's  daughter  and  slays  the 
monster,  leaping  down  its  throat  and  cutting 
through  its  belly.  For  which  feat  Laomedon  had 
stipulated  to  the  victor  the  immortal  horses  of 
Zeus ;  but  the  faithless  king,  when  his  daughter  is 
saved  and  his  realm  is  freed  of  its  destroyer,  re- 
fuses again  to  fulfil  his  promise,  and  gives  to  his 
heroic  Greek  savior  some  common  mortal  steeds — 
the  perfidious  Trojan  ingrate!  Whereupon  Her- 
cules sacks  Troy  and  seizes  the  right  horses.  Then 
he  leaves  to  Priam  the  son  of  Laomedon,  who  had 


HOMER'S  OTHER  MYTHICAL  SIEGES         Ixv 

opposed  the  fraud  of  his  father,  the  Trojan  realm 
for  a  future  fate. 

Such,  then,  was  the  first  mythical  capture  of 
Troy,  whose  ruler  had  shown  himself  defiant  of  and 
insulting  to  Greek  Gods  and  to  the  Greek  Hero,  all 
of  whom  properly  belonged  to  continental  Hellas. 
An  anti-Hellenic  note  we  may  hear  already  winding 
through  this  early  legend  of  the  first  sack  of  Troy 
©nd  the  causes  thereof,  which  legend  seems  already 
to  foreshadow  her  future  far  greater  war  ending  in 
the  destruction  of  the  maleficent  city.  For  it  will 
produce  the  champion  thief  of  the  age,  if  not  of  all 
time,  Paris  son  of  King  Priam,  who  steals  Argive 
Helen,  and  whom  Troy  will  protect  and  so  justify 
in  his  famously  poetic  act  of  grand  larceny.  At 
least  European  Hellas  thus  regards  the  deed,  the 
doer,  and  the  protecting  city  whose  walls,  there- 
fore, must  be  breached  if  the  dawning  Greek  world 
is  ever  to  reach  its  sunrise. 

A  still  intenser  stress  of  conflict  we  feel  in  the 
remoter  mythical  background  of  the  Homeric  poems 
telling  of  the  two  sieges  of  Thebes,  whose  heroes 
were  of  the  same  national  strain  as  those  who 
fought  the  Trojan  War,  and  came  from  the  same 
locality  namely,  Argos  of  the  Peloponnesus.  It 
would  seem  that  the  same  strong  necessity  rested 
upon  the  true  Greek  of  that  age  to  capture  and  put 
down  Thebes  as  to  capture  and  put  down  Troy. 
And  the  Theban  task  had  to  be  done  first,  appar 
ently  because  the  hostile  city  was  not  far  over  the 
sea,  but  lay  in  the  very  heart  of  Hellas.    The  first 


Ixvi  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

expedition  failed  and  its  participators  perished  ex- 
cept one;  but  their  sons  (the  so-called  epigoni) 
took  up  their  fathers'  cause,  which  was  also  that 
of  all  Greece,  and  triumphed  over  the  antagonistic 
Theban  city.  Two  famous  Argive  warriors,  Diomed 
and  Sthenelus  afterward  battling  at  Troy,  had  won 
their  earlier  guerdon  of  war 's  glory  at  Thebes. 

The  fact  is  that  this  strange  inland  city  of  Beotia 
always  manifested  both  in  her  mythical  and  in  her 
historical  career  a  peculiar  non-Greek  tendency, 
which  showed  her  drift  back  toward  the  Orient. 
Such  was  the  source  of  her  inborn  unsolved  tragic 
contradiction,  which  brought  her  into  conflict  with 
her  nation,  with  her  age,  with  herself.  Hence  she 
furnished  so  many  themes  of  tragedy  to  the  great 
Athenian  dramatists  who,  belonging  to  the  city 
most  hostile  to  her  spirit,  failed  not  to  exhibit  on 
the  stage  her  innermost  fateful  character.  Homer 
strikes  her  name  from  his  honor-giving  muster-roll 
of  the  Greeks  embattled  against  Troy,  which  was 
the  pride  of  so  many  small  Hellenic  communities, 
though  the  Trojan  expedition  assembled  at  Aulis,  a 
Beotian  town  not  far  from  Thebes.  The  grand 
mythical  deed  of  Greece  in  putting  down  the  Asi- 
atic trend  of  its  race,  found  no  patriotic  echo  in 
the  heart  of  Thebes;  she  was  verily  the  Oriental 
in  Hellas  who  had  first  to  be  suppressed  ere  the 
more  distant  Troy  could  be  taken.  And  after  the 
great  war,  she  still  remained  Trojan  in  sympathy, 
for  she  erected  a  monument  to  Hector  as  one  of 
her  heroes  instead  of  Achilles — which  monument 


HOMER' 8  OTHER  MYTHICAL  8IEOE8      Ixvii 

the  traveler  Pausanias  still  saw  more  than  a  hun- 
dred years  after  Christ,  that  is,  more  than  a  thou- 
sand years  after  Homer. 

Such  was  the  mythical  record  of  Thebes,  sepa- 
rative, rebellious  to  the  common  cause,  anti-Hel- 
lenic. But  her  historic  fame  was  yet  worse ;  in  the 
very  crisis  of  the  Greek  world,  in  the  Persian  War, 
she  sided  actively  with  the  Oriental,  so  that  on  the 
second  most  illustrious  Greek  muster-roll  of  those 
who  fought  at  the  battle  of  Plataea,  she  is  marked 
down  by  the  historian  Herodotus  as  enranked  with 
the  Asiatic  against  Greece,  and  fighting  at  her 
best  for  the  domination  of  the  Orient  in  Europe. 
Thus  the  poet  and  the  historian  give  the  same  char- 
acter to  Thebes,  who  really  does  over  again  in 
history  what  she  had  already  done  in  fable.  And 
hence,  to  complete  the  parallel,  the  Greeks  once 
more  invest  Thebes  after  their  victory  at  Plataea, 
capture  it,  and  seek  to  purify  it  of  its  Asiatic  taint 
so  deeply  ingrained  in  her  spirit.  Such  may  be 
called  the  third  siege  of  Thebes,  now  the  historic. 
Thus  Homer  with  his  Mythus  again  pre-enacts  His- 
tory. 

The  very  name  of  this  city  suggests  the  hundred- 
gated  Egyptian  Thebes,  which  is  also  mentioned  by 
Homer.  The  founder  of  Beotian  Thebes,  Cadmus, 
was  said  to  have  come  from  Egypt,  or  from  Phe- 
nicia  according  to  another  account.  Her  citadel 
was  called  the  Cadmeia  throughout  the  Greek  his- 
toric age.  But  the  most  telling  fact  about  Thebes 
is  that  iu  the  two  supreme  conflicts  of  Hellenism 


Ixviii  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

with  Orientalism,  the  Trojan  and  the  Persian,  she 
turned  inimical  to  her  own  Hellas,  and  played  the 
part  of  the  Greek  devil,  the  inner  destroyer  of  her 
own  nation.  Thus  she  presents  the  mythical  pre- 
lude and  the  historic  parallel  to  Homer's  Troy, 
which  she  not  only  foreshows  but  also  interprets. 

Homer  bespeaks  but  does  not  unfold  this  deep 
internal  struggle  of  the  Hellenic  soul,  which  is 
most  tragically  represented  in  dualistic  Thebes  by 
the  strife  of  the  two  Theban  brothers,  Eteocles  and 
Polynices,  who  at  last  slay  each  other.  ^'The 
brothers  have  a  common  altar  upon  which  offerings 
are  laid ;  but  behold  the  fire  of  sacrifice,  it  separates 
into  two  hostile  tongues  of  flame  which  will  not 
mingle.  Brothers  they  are  and  must  remain  to- 
gether, though  without  hope  of  reconciliation — ene- 
mies still  in  the  grave.  Thus  the  Theban  struggle 
is  pushed  to  its  last  intensity  in  the  direst  domestic 
tragedy ;  from  the  first  Asiatic  dissonance,  through 
Greek  civil  war,  it  has  passed  to  fratricide.  Then 
still  further  it  drives  to  parricide  in  the  tale  of 
Oedipus,  fabled  King  of  Thebes,  who  murders  his 
own  father  and  marries  his  own  mother"  (see  au- 
thor 's  Walk  in  Hellas  for  a  further  study  of  myth- 
ical and  historical  Thebes  on  the  spot,  pp.  211-221). 

Thus  the  attentive  student  continually  hears 
throughout  Greek  legend,  even  before  the  Trojan 
War,  as  well  as  throughout  Greek  history  down  to 
this  present  moment,  the  one  eternal  Hellenic 
theme,  the  conflict  between  Hellas  and  the  Orient. 
This,  indeed,  would  seem  to  be  the  cardinal  historic 


HOMER'S  HISTORICITY  '     [xix 

event  of  all  recorded  time,  the  chief  turning-point 
of  man's  civilisation  as  hitherto  unfolding  itself. 
But  that  which  now  engages  our  chief  interest  is 
that  Homer  has  given  the  first  and  worthiest  ex- 
pression of  this  supreme  world-making  event  with 
its  enduring  struggle,  or  its  everlasting  Trojan 
War.  Hence  we  read  him  to-day  with  a  wholly  new 
illumination. 

So  we  are  brought  back  again  to  the  historic 
substrate  in  Homer,  after  pondering  and  elaborat- 
ing the  mythical  element  in  which  he  manifests  him- 
self with  such  poetic  power.  As  in  Thebes,  so  in 
Troy  there  is  seen  the  reflex  of  History  mirroring 
the  same  content  that  we  find  in  the  Mythus.  Upon 
this  fact,  so  significant  for  the  larger  comprehen- 
sion of  Homer,  we  shall  again  dwell  with  some  fur- 
ther illustration. 

VI. 

Homer  ^s  Historicity. 

The  justly  eminent  English  historian  of  Greece, 
our  favorite  one,  we  may  add,  George  Grote,  has 
given  himself  much  trouble  to  deny  the  historic 
worth  of  Homer  and  the  events  of  Troy.  Still  we 
find  him  here  and  there  qualifying  his  general  de- 
nial, (especially  in  Chapter  XX  of  his  Legendary 
Greece)  y  and  granting  to  History  some  very  im- 
portant facts  found  only  in  Greek  Mythology.  He 
concedes  that  Homer  furnishes  true  documentary 
evidence  of  the  manners  and  customs  of  the  poet's 


Ixx  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

time,  also  of  the  domestic,  political,  and  social  con- 
ditions of  the  age,  though  these  be  in  many  re- 
spects different  from  those  of  the  later  so-called 
historical  Greece.  That  is,  the  poet,  in  spite  of  or 
rather  by  means  of  his  mythical  presentations,  is 
nevertheless  the  authentic  historical  voucher,  and 
indeed  the  only  one,  of  the  institutions  of  his  pe- 
riod— Family,  State,  Society,  and  the  Economic 
Order,  as  well  as  the  time's  Religion.  Now,  if  Ho- 
mer's Mythus  was  able  to  express  and  transmit 
these  important  matters,  the  most  important  indeed 
of  human  concerns,  what  more  could  History  her- 
self achieve  in  her  own  shape  and  name  ?  For  that 
institutional  world  which  Homer  has  so  vividly  and 
completely  set  forth,  is  just  the  supreme  content, 
the  very  soul  which  the  historian  is  to  embody  in 
his  work. 

Still  there  is  no  doubt  that  Homer  has  his  ideal 
strain  which  everywhere  interweaves  with  his  reali- 
ties. In  the  first  place  he  very  pointedly  proclaims 
himself  as  living  and  acting  in  a  late,  relatively 
degenerate  age,  which  he  often  contrasts  with  the 
mighty  era  of  his  heroes  both  Trojan  and  Achaean, 
of  whose  exploits  he  sings.  Homer  has  clearly 
fallen  out  with  his  own  time,  and  betakes  himself 
to  the  past  ideal  world  of  the  Trojan  Mythus,  which 
he  so  poetically  glorifies.  At  the  same  time  he  brings 
along  his  real  world,  the  social  life  around  him, 
for  he  cannot  help  himself — he  cannot  leap  out  his 
institutional  skin,  any  more  than  he  can  run  away 
from  his  own  Ego.     Thus  the  poets  have  always 


HOMER'S  HISTORICITY  Ixxi 

done.  Shakespeare,  for  instance,  in  his  King  Lear 
throws  the  action  of  his  play  far  back  into  pre- 
historic Britain  ideally,  but  really  he  is  portraying 
the  contemporary  state  and  society  of  Queen  Eliza- 
beth's period — wherein  his  famous  interpreter, 
Gervinus  sadly  misinterprets  him. 

Such,  in  general,  is  Homer's  procedure  in  the 
Iliad :  he  celebrates  and  idealizes  the  former  grand 
heroic  age  in  contrast  with  his  own  little  unheroic 
epoch,  the  decadent  present.  A  similar  and  even 
more  fault-finding  pessimistio  note  we  hear  in 
ancient  Greek  Hesiod.  Other  deeper  and  subtler 
idealisations  of  Homer's  own  personal  experience 
we  shall  find  in  the  Odyssey^  whereof  later. 

But  the  profoundest  historic  element  underlying 
the  theme  of  Troy  is,  as  we  have  already  empha- 
sized, the  enduring  conflict  between  Orient  and  Oc- 
cident. The  Trojan  War,  we  may  re-affirm,  is  just 
at  this  moment  being  again  fought  with  a  renewed 
energy  over  a  larger  territory  with  a  vaster  outlay 
of  blood  and  treasure  and  human  suffering  than  at 
any  former  time.  Forward  and  backward  the 
battle-line  is  still  swaying  between  Hellas  and  the 
Orient  in  the  same  general  region — the  two  antago- 
nists being  animated  with  quite  the  same  opposing 
principles  amid  all  their  superficial  diversities.  For 
the  Greek  is  still  the  Greek  and  the  Asiatic  is  still 
the  Asiatic,  as  they  faced  each  other  some  three  mil- 
leniums  ago,  before  the  walls  of  little  Troy,  though 
their  difference  has  become  with  the  centuries  in- 
finitely deepened,  and  also  broadened  out  till  it 


lyyii  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

embraces  just  about  the  one  half  of  the  terrene 
sphere.  On  the  Trojan  plain  the  fight  was  only  a 
wee  embryon  germinating  within  one  and  the  same 
folk,  the  Hellenic,  but  to-day  it  sweeps  into  its  con- 
flict the  races  of  mankind,  Aryan,  Semitic,  Tura- 
nian— white,  black,  and  yellow.  That  is,  the  Tro- 
jan War  seems  to  be  the  only  war  hitherto  waged 
on  our  planet  which  persists  in  universalizing  it- 
self over  space  and  down  time. 

Am  I  justified  in  these  strong  and  seemingly 
flighty  expletives?  If  Homer  is  to  be  completely 
understood  at  present,  he  must  be  grasped  as  hav- 
ing some  such  ultimate  theme  for  all  mankind.  He, 
the  poet  of  the  Trojan  War,  was,  in  the  old  sense 
of  the  word  the  maker  (poietes)  of  it,  though  of 
course  it  was  likewise  made  for  him  by  his  time,  by 
his  people,  by  humanity.  And  it  has  been  growing 
ever  since  his  day  all  through  history  in  magnitude 
and  significance.  Homer  starts  literature,  gives 
to  the  same  its  primal  shape  and  push  down  the 
ages,  as  well  as  its  deepest  and  most  lasting  con- 
tent. His  formal  literary  excellence,  his  so-called 
beauties,  we  are  not  to  neglect,  but  the  complete 
study  of  him  probes  to  the  eternal  bed-rock  of  his 
genius,  which  is  the  aforesaid  conflict  of  the  Greek 
spirit  with  the  Oriental. 

We  saw  in  the  newspaper  some  days  since  that  a 
Greek  fleet  had  again  crossed  the  Egean  and  had 
occupied  Homer  *s  Smyrna,  having  landed  its  army 
for  the  purpose  of  renewing  the  old  struggle  along 
the  Anatolian  battle-line  of  many  centuries.    Thus 


HOMER'S  HISTORICITY  Ixxiii 

Agamemnon's  voyage  with  his  thousand  ships  was 
re-enacted,  and  to  ancient  Homer  can  be  now  added 
his  most  recent  illuminating,  yea  verifying  com- 
mentary written  by  present  History.  Just  that 
conflict  is  what  he  sang,  preluding  his  Troy  song 
probably  at  Smyrna,  from  which  city  to-day's 
Greek  armament  is  advancing  to  attack  the  modern 
Ilium,  as  it  in  general  may  here  be  called.  In  this 
old-new  Smyrna,  too,  the  poet  Homer  v/as  born, 
according  to  one  ancient  record,  though  not  alto- 
gether credible.  Still  he  must  have  experienced 
the  battle-line  here  drawn,  and  its  furious  on- 
slaughts; it  is  hence  our  opinion  that  Homer  may 
well  have  composed  his  Troy  poem  at  Smyrna, 
which  city  seems  haunted  yet  with  his  personality, 
being  perchance  the  birth  place  of  his  Iliad,  though 
not  of  the  man  himself. 

Accordingly  this  conflict  described  by  Homer  we 
call  the  First  Trojan  War,  mythical  in  form  but 
historical  in  soul,  yea,  rather  the  most  deeply  and 
permanently  historical  of  all  recorded  events,  be- 
coming truer  and  realer  to-day  than  ever  before, 
and  growing  larger  in  its  tremendous  reality.  Now 
between  these  two  Trojan  Wars,  the  first  and  the 
last  as  we  have  listed  them,  there  is  a  long  interme- 
diate line  of  history  whose  nodal  occurrences  we 
shall  glance  at  for  the  better  appreciation  of  Ho- 
mer's historical  value. 

1.  Herodotus,  the  first  Greek  historian  in  time 
as  well  as  in  form  and  matter,  though  a  good  deal 
of  mythology  still  clings  to  him,  takes  likewise  as 


Ixxiv  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

his  all-inclusive  theme  the  grand  struggle  between 
Hellas  and  the  Orient.  According  to  his  own  state- 
ment he  lived  some  four  hundred  years  after  Ho- 
mer, during  which  time  many  lesser  conflicts  be- 
tween the  two  contestants  kept  taking  place.  But 
the  culminating  effort  which  he  recounted  was  the 
prodigious  attempt  of  entire  Western  Asia  marshal- 
ing millions  of  soldiers  under  Persian  rule  to  sub- 
jugate small  continental  Greece.  The  result  was, 
as  we  all  know,  Marathon  and  Thermopylae  and 
Salamis,  with  which  battles  European  History  ex- 
plicitly opens,  though  this  historical  Persian  War 
was  in  spirit  and  in  meaning  a  repetition  of  the 
mythical  Trojan  War. 

Still  this  contest  lay  in  the  same  race,  for  both 
Persian  and  Greek  were  Aryans,  speaking  the  same 
ultimate  root-words,  as  Comparative  Philology  dem- 
onstrates. The  previous  contest  before  Troy,  how- 
ever, lay  not  merely  in  the  same  race  but  in  the 
same  stock  or  folk,  namely  the  Hellenic,  for  both 
Greek  and  Trojan  were  of  one  people,  though  di- 
vided into  two  opposing  parties  or  tendencies,  the 
Easterners  of  Asia  and  the  Westerners  of  Europe. 
Moreover  Ionic  Athens  through  this  Persian  War 
rose  to  be  the  greatest  of  Greek  city-states,  as  well 
as  the  chief  preserver  and  transmitter  of  the  Ho- 
meric poems,  and  also  their  transformer  into  the 
Attic  drama. 

An  emphatic  and  lasting  result  of  the  Persian 
War  was  that  the  battle-line  between  Greece  and 
the  Orient  became  definitely  laid  down  in  an  his- 


HOMER'S  HISTORICITY  Ixxv 

torieal  document,  which  was  known  as  the  Peace 
of  Callias  about  450-449  B.  C.  It  is  practically  the 
old  Trojan  line,  and  at  this  moment  the  Greek  and 
the  Turk  are  fighting  across  it  with  reciprocal  ad- 
vance and  retreat,  keeping  up  the  world-historical 
see-saw  between  Europe  and  Asia,  of  which  the 
first  or  mythical  record  is  found  in  the  poetry  of 
Homer,  and  the  second  or  historical  in  the  prose 
of  Herodotus.  Thus  the  one  most  ultimate  and 
genetic  event  in  the  cultural  movement  of  mankind 
has  created  for  itself  the  two  forms  of  expression, 
that  of  verse  and  that  of  prose,  for  imagination  and 
for  thought. 

2.  The  next  grand  crisis  in  the  historic  con- 
tinuity of  ancient  Troy's  conflict  starts  with  the 
career  of  Alexander  the  Great,  who,  about  a  cen- 
tury and  a  half  after  the  Persian  attack  on  Greece, 
faces  Eastward  and  sweeps  past  the  old  battle-line 
and  overwhelms  Persia  and  the  Orient,  even  as  far 
as  the  river  Indus.  He  pushes  quite  to  the  primal 
sources  of  the  Aryan  race  common  to  both  Greek 
and  Persian,  as  if  he  would  tap  them  again  for  a 
fresh  revivification  and  reconstruction  of  his  declin- 
ing Hellenic  race. 

At  any  rate  Alexander  and  his  successors,  driv- 
ing beyond  that  ancient  Trojan  boundary,  con- 
quered and  kept  and  Hellenized  Western  Asia, 
holding  it  under  a  Greek  cultural  spell  which  lasted 
a  thousand  years,  through  many  political  and  even 
religious  changes.  Thus  the  time-honored  battle- 
line  of  Troy  iseems  transcended,  if  not  obliterated 


Ixxvi  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

for  centuries.    But  no ;  it  is  there,  though  silent  if 
not  asleep. 

3.  Finally  the  aged  quiescent  conflict  between 
Greek  and  Oriental  suddenly  flames  up  anew.  It 
is  the  Arabian  Mahomet  who  awakens  the  old  strife 
and  begins  to  drive  Hellas,  now  Christian  in  her  re- 
ligion, out  of  Asia  back  to  her  primal  Trojan  limit, 
which  thus  awakes  to  fresh  life.  Moreover  Ma- 
homet is  a  Semite,  and  uprises  with  his  new  religion 
to  take  the  place  of  the  Christian.  Thus  the  long 
submerged  Semitic  race  bursts  forth  again,  and 
supplants  the  rule  of  its  old  Aryan  competitor,  who 
has  lost  his  original  racial  energy  in  Asia,  and  has 
failed  to  maintain  the  Orient  against  Semitic  arms, 
religion,  and  civilisation. 

A  sudden  mighty  renewal  and  outbreak  of  the 
Asiatic  soul  is  this  eruption  of  Mahomet,  which 
speedily  overflows  and  overthrows  much  of  the 
Eastern  Greek  Empire,  and  even  streams  across  the 
sea  into  Spain  and  France.  But  it  could  not  hold 
out,  it  too  turned  decadent,  and  rapidly  lost  its 
primal  massive  energy.  So  it  came  about  that  the 
weakening  Semite  was  supplanted  by  another  Ori- 
ental race,  the  Turanian  Turk,  a  vigorous  but  sav- 
age stock  which  kept  up  the  Orient 's  march  against 
Hellas,  where  it  is  enranked  for  fight  to-day. 

4.  The  Turk  in  time  reaches  the  Trojan  battle- 
line,  pushes  over  it  and  crosses  the  Egean,  captur- 
ing the  whole  of  original  Hellas,  and  thus  estab- 
lishes himself  in  Europe.  No  Asiatic  conqueror, 
not  even  Attila,  had  ever  accomplished  such  a  feat, 


HOMER'S  HISTORICITY  Ixxvil 

though  long  ago  it  had  been  attempted  by  Persian 
Xerxes.  In  1453  the  Turk  took  the  last  and  great- 
est Greek  fortress,  Constantinople,  and  the  entire 
Hellenic  world  was  swallowed  up  in  the  Oriental 
tidal-wave  quite  as  the  Orient  had  been  submerged 
in  the  great  Hellenic  overflow  some  eighteen  hun- 
dred years  before  under  Alexander. 

Thus  the  Trojan  battle-line  was  pushed  westward 
by  the  Turk  to  the  Adriatic  and  even  to  the  walls 
of  Vienna,  from  which  he  was  in  the  end  repulsed, 
and  whose  siege  in  1683  marks  the  limit  of  the  mod- 
ern Oriental  deluge  of  the  Turks,  which  for  several 
centuries  threatened  to  submerge  all  Europe.  The 
Turk's  last  convulsive  effort  at  further  conquest  is 
usually  deemed  his  siege  of  Corfu  in  1716,  whence 
he  was  finally  beaten  off  in  a  crushing  defeat,  after 
which  the  tide  turned  against  the  Turkish  con- 
querors, and  began  to  roll  them  back  toward  their 
old  seats  in  Asia.  Such  is  the  historic  movement 
still  going  on,  forcing  the  Oriental  man  from  his 
long  lodgement  in  European  Hellas,  which  has 
lasted  quite  five  hundred  years,  and  driving  him 
rearward  to  where  is  found  that  early  Trojan 
battle-line  first  laid  down  by  ancient  Homer. 

5.  The  most  striking  achievement  hitherto 
enacted  in  this  retrograde  sweep  toward  Homeric 
Troy  is  the  Greek  Revolution  of  1821-29,  which 
about  a  century  ago  made  antique  central  Greece 
of  Classic  fame  independent  of  Turkey.  During 
the  hundred  years  of  this  new  Greek  independence 
till  to-day,  Hellas  has  been  slowly  gaining  more  and 


Ixxviii  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

more  of  her  ancient  territory,  emerging  from  her 
hapless  subsidence  under  the  Oriental  wave — her 
racking  semi-mill enial  discipline  in  the  World's 
History.  Well  may  she  ask:  what  means  it  all? 
And  we  have  to  query :  whence  such  a  unique  gift 
for  national  fatality  as  has  been  hers  ? 

This  brings  our  rapid  survey  down  to  the  pres- 
ent moment,  when  Hellas,  having  gained  once  more 
the  old  Trojan  battle-line,  seems  to  be  dubiously 
teetering  upon  it  backward  and  forward,  very  un- 
certain of  the  future.  She  still  rises  before  us  as  if 
laden  with  her  ancient  curse  of  envy  (phthonos) 
toward  her  Great  Men,  that  peculiar  Greek  fatuity 
{Ate)  which  her  poets  headed  by  Homer,  her  his- 
torians and  her  philosophers  have  signaled  as  her 
grand  spiritual  malady,  as  the  fatal  portion  which 
always  makes  her  tragic  at  the  very  heart  of  her 
success,  in  spite  of  all  her  splendid  gifts  and  her 
ages-long  world-historical  defence  of  and  devotion 
to  the  civilisation  of  the  race 's  future. 

Here,  then,  let  us  turn  back  to  that  old  Homeric 
conflict  which  we  now  see  to  have  been  the  most 
prophetic,  fate-laden  battle  of  the  World 's  History, 
just  that  battle  of  the  Iliad,  indeed  the  truly  cre- 
ative one  of  all-bearing  Time,  and  the  most  endur- 
ing one  of  historic  duration,  having  lasted  now 
some  3000  years  and  still  going  on,  being  renewed 
to-day  with  an  enormous  increment  of  power  and 
territory  on  both  sides.  Does  not  Time's  Oracle 
tell  us  that  this  is  the  most  significant  happening 
of  Universal   History?     The  three  main   Asiatic 


HOMER'S  HISTORICITY  Ixxix 

races,  the  Aryan,  the  Semitic,  the  Turanian,  have 
at  different  successive  intervals  down  the  ages 
surged  up  to  and  over  this  Trojan  battle-line,  seek- 
ing somehow  to  get  across  it  permanently,  even  to 
obliterate  it  forever.  All  in  vain;  there  it  stands 
to-day  more  deeply  graved  and  more  fixedly  drawn 
upon  the  face  of  the  earth  than  at  any  former  age. 

Indeed  it  may  be  said  that  just  now  the  three 
Asiatic  races  before  mentioned,  the  Aryan,  the 
Semitic,  and  the  Turanian,  are  for  the  first  time 
fusing  together  despite  all  their  differences  of  lan- 
guage, of  religion,  of  culture,  of  polity,  are  consoli- 
dating into  one  vast  mass  of  Oriental  enthusiasm, 
or  fanaticism  if  you  wish,  getting  ready  from  dis- 
tant India,  Egypt,  Tartary,  to  precipitate  them- 
selves upon  this  globe-dividing  Trojan  battle-line 
where  little  Greece  is  still  standing  as  vanguard  of 
Europe  against  the  human  avalanche  of  the  Orient. 
Such  has  been  her  world-historical  duty  from 
Homer  till  now. 

One  other  historic  thought  may  be  here  passingly 
interjected  for  the  studious  reader:  the  three 
grand  divisions  of  European  History,  Ancient,  Me- 
dieval, and  Modern,  have  sprung  from  the  three 
mighty  impacts  of  these  three  Oriental  races  upon 
the  Trojan  battle-line.  The  Persian  attack  starts 
distinctly  Ancient  History,  the  Mohammedan 
wakes  up  the  Medieval  World,  the  Turkish  capture 
of  Constantinople  preludes  Modern  History,  which 
opens  with  the  so  called  Renaissance.  And  now  the 
combined  assault  of  all  three  foregoing  Asiatic 


lyyy  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

races,  having  placated  their  own  furious  religious 
and  other  oldest  animosities,  and  having  started  the 
look  and  even  the  march  toward  the  Trojan  battle- 
line  which  separates  them  from  the  Occident,  is  the 
portentous  Oriental  phenomenon  which  nervous 
Europe  is  anxiously  gazing  at  to-day,  as  it  seems 
to  threaten  another  mighty  cataclysm  which  brings 
to  agonizing  birth  a  new  era  or  a  new  aeon  of  the 
World's  History. 

So  it  comes  that  old  Homer  with  his  Trojan 
theme  is  with  us  still,  and  fuller  of  grand  signifi- 
cances than  at  any  time  of  the  past.  And  his  far- 
reaching  historic  worth  has  been  attested  by  the 
fact  that  his  conflict  at  Troy  between  Europe  and 
Asia  has  been  repeated  with  increased  emphasis  at 
every  new  turn  of  time,  till  to-day  that  petty  Tro- 
jan strife  has  grown  in  the  evolution  of  centuries 
to  be  the  earth's  supreme  menace.  Prom  the  sur- 
vey of  the  foregoing  occurrences  of  history  down 
to  the  present,  we  are  brought  to  know  and  to  af- 
firm the  historicity  of  Homer,  while  recognizing  at 
the  same  time  the  mythical  character  of  the  par- 
ticular events  which  he  records  in  his  poems. 

But  who  is  this  Homer — can  anything  be  known 
of  his  individual  life?  This  singer  who  in  his 
mythical  garb  has  set  forth  the  central  chapter  of 
the  World's  History,  past,  present,  and  future — 
what  may  have  been  some  of  the  personal  circum- 
stances of  his  earthly  sojourn  ?  For  poetic  Homer 
towers  up  a  greater  hero  than  any  of  his  heroes, 
greater  indeed  than  all  of  his  heroes,  or  rather  he 
is  all  of  them  and  something  more. 


HOMER'S  BIOGRAPHY  Ixxxi 

VII. 

Homer's  Biography. 

Whoever  has  hearkened  with  some  determination 
and  spiritual  quest  to  the  preceding  narrative,  has 
remarked  the  poet  telling  a  good  deal  about  him- 
self throughout  his  Trojan  Mj^hus.  In  a  sense  we 
may  call  it  his  autobiography  set  down  in  two  parts 
or  poems.  For  they  reveal  supremely  that  per- 
sonality called  Homer,  even  more  fully  than  they 
do  Achilles  and  Ulysses,  who  are  properly  but  two 
sides  or  stages  of  the  one  complete  personal  devel- 
opment of  their  creator.  Of  course  such  a  state- 
ment runs  counter  to  the  general  view  that  Homer 
is  absolutely  self-secreting  and  indistinguishable 
from  his  work.  ''The  most  objective  of  poets",  is 
the  common  cry ;  yes,  but  that  very  expression  tells 
not  a  little  about  his  personal  character,  and  even 
implies  where  we  are  to  look  for  him,  namely  in  his 
poetry. 

Still  it  must  be  confessed  that,  in  the  strictly 
formal  sense  of  the  term,  there  is  no  biography  of 
Homer.  This  means  that  where,  when,  under  what 
conditions  Homer  was  born,  lived,  and  died,  cannot 
be  historically  documented.  In  a  famous  Greek 
epigram  we  hear  of  seven  cities  which  contended 
for  the  honor  of  being  the  place  of  his  nativity. 
Yet  these  seven  might  be  easily  increased  by  seven 
more.  A  number  of  brief  notices  of  the  old  poet 
have  come  down  to  us,   written  in  the  ancient 


Ixxxii  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

tongue,  but  really  saying  next  to  nothing.  One  of 
these  spurious  lives  goes  under  the  name  of  Hero- 
dotus, but  it  seems  to  have  been  born  at  least  six 
hundred  years  after  the  death  of  the  Father  of 
History,  its  putative  author.  Still  the  best  authen- 
ticated statement  concerning  the  time  of  Homer  is 
found  in  the  genuine  Herodotus  (II.  53),  and  runs 
thus:  ''It  is  my  opinion  that  Homer  and  Hesiod 
lived  four  hundred  years  before  my  age  and  not 
more,  and  that  they  were  the  framers  of  a  theogony 
for  the  Greeks. ' ' 

Thus  has  written  the  inquirer  or  historian  Hero- 
dotus, a  careful  researcher  for  his  time.  He  adds 
with  some  decision,  as  if  he  knew:  *'I  make  this 
statement  on  my  own  authority. ' '  Accordingly  the 
most  trustworthy  witness  of  antiquity  and  the  most 
nearly  contemporaneous  with  the  poet,  though  four 
centuries  later,  places  Homer's  era  at  about  900- 
850  B.  C.  Other  accounts  vary  both  ways  from  this 
date  by  a  hundred  years  and  more.  Such,  then, 
is  our  best  obtainable  chronology  of  Homer's  real 
existence.  If  Herodotus  wrote,  as  is  likely,  the 
preceding  cited  sentences  at  Athens  in  the  Periclean 
epoch,  somewhere  about  440-430,  he  must  have 
heard  at  that  time  and  place  much  discussion  con- 
cerning the  Homeric  poems,  their  origin  and  pur- 
port, since  the  immortal  Attic  literature,  then  just 
in  its  bloom  and  highest  fecundity,  was  the  mighty 
child  of  Homer  by  direct  Ionic  descent. 

The  exact  moment  or  day  or  year,  or  perhaps 
even  the  century  of  Homer's  birth  thus  hovers  in 


HOMER'S  BIOGRAPHY  Ixxxiii 

the  fleeting  unknown,  though  nothing  is  more  cer- 
tain than  that  he  was  born  once  and  forever.  Quite 
equally  indefinite  is  the  point  or  spot  of  earth  where 
he  first  saw  the  light.  Many  places  all  over  Hellas 
claimed  him  at  least  as  their  infant,  and  in  a  sense 
he  was  born  everywhere  in  and  of  the  Greek  world, 
and  his  poem  is  proof  of  the  fact.  For  he  was  the 
universal  Greek,  and  still  we  read  him  and  com- 
mune with  him  as  one  of  the  grand  incarnations  of 
the  universal  Man.  Still,  even  if  we  must  do  with- 
out knowing  the  plot  of  soil  upon  which  he  first 
opened  his  eyes,  we  can  catch  glimpses  of  the  birth- 
place of  his  genius.  For  he  has  left,  in  consider- 
able passages  of  his  poem,  traces  of  the  early  en- 
vironment in  which  he  was  reared  and  rose  to  be  a 
poet.  Somewhere  amid  the  vales  and  slopes  of 
Mount  Olympus,  on  whose  peak  the  imaginative 
youth  could  see  the  Gods  assemble  in  council  and 
thence  fleet  down  to  mortals,  he  grew  up  to  be  a 
man  and  a  singer  of  heroic  lays.  In  that  same  re- 
gion was  the  home  of  his  heroic  Achilles,  whose 
training  there  under  the  ideal  pedagogue  Phoenix 
he  has  celebrated  with  so  much  affectionate  detail 
(Iliad,  Book  IX),  hinting  doubtless  in  it  somewhat 
of  his  own  early  discipline.  Then  not  far  away 
in  Macedonia  bubbled  up  the  Pierian  spring,  the 
primal  birth  place  of  the  Muses,  seemingly  before 
they  were  re-born  of  Delphic  Castalia.  Homer 
knows  the  locality  (Pieria),  and  alludes  to  it  in 
both  of  his  poems. 

While  it  cannot  be  proved  that  Homer  was  born 


Ixxxiv  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

in  Thessaly — this  name  he  nowhere  employs — he 
does  show  an  intimacy  with  its  external  nature,  an 
innate  sympathy  with  its  mountains  and  men, 
which  would  seem  to  be  a  product  of  youthful 
growth  and  familiarity.  There  is  in  the  more 
Achillean  portions  of  his  Iliad  the  glow  of  a  unique 
experience  of  the  landscape,  Thessalian,  Olympian, 
Northern,  which  rises  mightily  in  the  background 
of  his  Trojan  descriptions  of  events  and  persons. 
The  style  seems  to  partake  of  the  colossal  scenery 
(for  instance  in  Book  VIII),  becoming  more  spa- 
cious. Titanic,  grandiose  in  conception  and  expres- 
sion as  the  action  culminates.  The  wrath  of  Achil- 
les, the  love  of  his  friend  Patroclus,  the  vengeance 
against  Hector,  even  his  two  reconciliations  with 
Agamemnon  and  with  Priam,  are  mountainous, 
sprung  of  an  Olympian  soul  superhumanly  strug- 
gling with  its  human  limits. 

In  the  life  of  Homer,  which  we  are  now  attempt- 
ing to  construe  from  his  own  works,  this  may  be 
called  his  Achillean  Period.  We  cannot  date  it  to 
the  year,  perhaps  not  to  the  decade.  No  matter; 
here  his  imaginative  genius  rises  out  of  his  own 
writ,  in  which  he,  the  young  Homer,  utters  his 
fiery  bound-bursting  spirit  through  his  young  hero 
Achilles  defiant  of  authority.  The  poet  we  now 
may  see  as  youthful  world-stormer,  in  conflict  with 
the  law  or  rule  over  him,  which  has  formally  been 
handed  down,  like  the  scepter  of  Agamemnon.  Such 
we  may  deem  the  prelude  of  Homer's  own  life,  be- 
ginning in  the  First  Book  of  the  Iliad,  which  starts 


HOMER'S  BIOGRAPHY  Ixxxv 

with  the  ever-recurring  strife  between  the  man  of 
heroic  worth  and  the  man  above  him  in  authority. 

After  some  such  fashion  we  are  to  sleuth  the  sly 
old  Greek  poet  through  all  his  masks  and  through 
all  his  characters,  and  hearken  him  telling  ulti- 
mately on  himself,  for  he  cannot  help  it.  Rightly 
called  the  most  impersonal  of  poets  is  he,  and  the 
most  objective — that  is,  the  most  elusive  of  self,  and 
subtly  secretive  of  his  own  Ego,  which  is,  however, 
the  hidden  demiurge  at  work  creating  or  rather  re- 
creating the  world  for  his  own  self-expression. 
Hence  we  dare  affirm  that  Homer  is  writing  his 
autobiography  in  his  two  poems,  which,  when  seen 
down  to  their  first  sources,  reveal  the  pivotal  stages 
in  the  evolution  of  the  poet's  total  life.  Thus  the 
earliest  Homer  had  his  youthful  protesting,  world- 
storming.  Titanic  epoch,  as  did  Goethe,  his  latest 
poetic  brother,  both  epochs  being  quite  alike  in  es- 
sence though  thousands  of  years  apart  in  appear- 
ance. 

Reasonably  certain  is  it  also,  from  the  tenor  of 
the  Iliad  that  the  poet  made  a  change  of  country 
from  the  early  Thessalian  scenes  of  his  youth  to 
the  coast  of  Asia  Minor,  the  locality  of  his  Trojan 
War.  Aristarchus,  greatest  of  all  Homeric  inter- 
preters in  antiquity,  believed  that  Homer  was  an 
Athenian.  Thus  the  poet  might  have  taken  part  in 
some  phase  of  the  epochal  Ionic  migration  to  the 
East,  which  seems  to  have  had  its  chief  center  in 
Athens.  At  any  rate  the  second  distinct  habitat  of 
his  poetry,  if  we  may  judge  by  its  landscape  and 


Ixxxvi  HOMER'8  LIFE-LINES 

general  environment,  can  be  located  in  and  around 
Smyrna,  which  likewise  claimed  to  be  his  birth- 
place along  with  other  neighboring  Ionic  cities. 
Here  he  probably  put  together  his  Iliad,  after  a 
variety  of  personal  experiences,  one  of  which  was 
that  of  a  soldier  campaigning  against  the  near-by 
Oriental  inland,  doubtless  the  Lydian,  whose  em- 
pire was  then  arising,  as  told  in  Herodotus.  For 
Homer  knows  too  much  about  war  with  all  its  ways 
and  wounds  not  to  have  had  the  immediate  test 
of  the  battle-line  in  person.  We  have  to  think  that 
he  largely  saw  and  took  part  in  what  he  describes 
with  so  much  detail  and  vividness.  Moreover  every 
able-bodied  Greek  man  every  where  had  then  to 
bear  arms.  Nor  should  we  forget  that  Smyrna  was 
the  natural  center  of  the  Trojan  Mytlius  in  its 
bloom,  which  gave  material  and  creative  impulse 
to  the  poet. 

But  after  his  Smyrnaean  time,  which  represents 
more  or  less  his  middle  life.  Homer  quit  the  Ionic 
East  and  started  on  his  travels  to  the  West  of 
Hellas  and  of  Europe,  which  he  has  poetized  in  the 
wanderings  of  Ulysses,  the  hero  of  the  Odyssey, 
This  period  embraces  the  years  which  make  the 
transition  from  middle  to  old  age.  The  same  per- 
sonality we  are  to  hear  speaking  and  revealing  it- 
self in  the  Odyssey  as  in  the  Iliad,  though  the  stage 
of  life-experience  as  well  as  the  form  of  expression 
in  each  poem  be  very  different,  in  correspondence 
with  the  advance  of  the  poet's  ever-evolving  self- 
hood. 


HOMER'S  BIOGRAPHY  Ixxxvii 

Finally  there  is  a  persistent  voice  coming  down 
otit  of  antiquity  from  many  sources  that  the  much 
experienced  Homer,  at  the  close  of  his  travels  in 
old  age,  returned  home  to  the  Ionic  East,  not  to 
Smyrna  however,  but  to  the  near  island  of  Chios, 
where  he  is  said  to  have  established  a  school  for  the 
singers  of  his  poetry,  affectionately  called  the  Ho- 
merids,  or  the  sons  of  Homer.  This  return  too, 
along  with  its  educational  purport,  should  be  taken 
as  a  genuine  part  or  stage  of  his  total  life-work, 
and  correlated  with  his  two  poems. 

So  it  comes  that  we  shall  consider  Homer's  bi- 
ography in  three  successive  aspects  or  periods, 
whose  titles  can  be  set  down  as  follows : 

I.     The  Achillean  Homer; 
II.     The  Ulyssean  Homer; 
III.    The  Chian  Homer. 


Ixxxviii  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 


CHAPTER  FIRST, 
THE  ACHILLEAN  HOMER, 

We  have,  therefore,  to  look  now  at  Homer  ex- 
pressing the  first  phase  or  stage  of  his  own  total 
life  in  the  character  which  he  gives  to  Achilles, 
whose  spiritual  evolution  is  drawn  with  such  smit- 
ing energy  throughout  the  whole  movement  of  the 
Iliad.  Indeed  we  shall  find  that  the  inner  uniting 
sweep  of  the  entire  poem  is  just  the  grand  disci- 
pline of  the  Hero,  and  hence  we  add,  of  the  Poet 
too,  who  is  always  self -revealing  in  his  own  work. 

So  we  are  called  upon  to  scan  with  searching 
glance  this  portrait  of  a  young  man,  perchance 
verging  toward  middle  life  but  hardly  yet  arrived, 
and  thus  different  from  the  older,  more  experienced 
mind  which  is  limned  in  the  Odyssey,  The  first 
period  of  the  poet  we  may  deem  it  in  a  general  un- 
dated way,  indicating  the  earlier  stage  of  his  evo- 
lution as  mirrored  in  a  great  achievement.  For 
Achilles  is  in  essence  Homer  himself,  projected  of 
course  into  a  former  age  with  its  supreme  event, 
the  Trojan  War.  So  our  attempt  must  now  seek  to 
see  beneath  his  mask  and  to  commune  with  his  soul 
as  it  unfolds  and  utters  itself  at  its  principal  crises. 

Hence  the  reader  is  for  the  nonce  to  leave  in 
abeyance  the  very  common  prejudice  (if  he  hap- 


THE  ACHILLEAN  HOMER  Ixxxix 

pens  to  have  it)  that  Homer's  personality  lies  hid 
in  an  impenetrable  obscurity,  that  his  selfhood  is 
so  disguised  in  his  work  that  it  cannot  be  known  or 
even  imagined.  This  opinion  is  so  universally  found 
in  Homeric  literature,  that  for  a  long  while  we  ac- 
cepted it  as  the  undeniable  fact  about  the  poet,  till 
upon  a  time  we  began  to  look  for  ourselves,  disre- 
garding the  ever-repeated  tradition  of  the  total 
unfathomability  of  his  Ego.  Then  the  man  began 
to  show  himself  in  the  very  movement  of  his 
Psyche,  which  is  ultimately  what  we  wish  to  find 
and  to  appropriate  in  the  study  of  Homer. 

For  his  book,  which  he  has  imparted  to  us  with 
such  convincing  sincerity,  is  at  last  to  be  seen  and 
construed  as  the  disclosure  of  his  own  personal  his- 
tory, the  very  act  of  his  self-revelation.  In  other 
words  Homer  is  at  his  spirit's  confessional  in  his 
lUad,  and  is  telling  on  himself,  if  we  but  rightly 
hear  him.  Thus  his  poem  must  be  finally  conceived 
as  autobiographic  despite  its  alien  form,  alien  to  us, 
however,  far  more  than  to  him,  for  the  immediate, 
directly  introspective  record  of  the  soul  is  not  yet 
his,  indeed  not  yet  his  world's.  Homer,  being  the 
original  and  the  primordial  poet,  is  at  one  with  his 
imagination  and  its  shapes,  which,  however,  con- 
tain and  manifest  what  he  is  in  himself  and  what  is 
himself,  namely  his  personality. 

Accordingly  Homer  is  not  only  his  two  poems 
but  is  more  than  they  are,  we  venture  to  think, 
greater  than  they  are,  as  the  creator  is  greater 
than  the  created.    His  life  is  what  we  wish  to  get 


xc  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

at  and  to  make  our  own  if  possible,  holding  inter- 
course with  that  ultimate  power  of  his,  more  orig- 
inative of  human  expression  than  any  yet  born  to 
time.  For  in  him  begins  the  real  genetic  word  out 
of  which  flow  poetry,  art,  literature  whatever  man 
has  most  worthily  uttered  unto  man.  Can  we  some- 
how catch  him  in  his  soul 's  very  act  ? 

Of  this  unique  gift  of  his  genius  we  may  find 
him  sketching  a  picture  in  his  Proteus,  the  Old 
Man  of  the  Sea,  whom  Menelaus  has  to  catch  and 
to  consult,  making  him  appear  in  his  true  form  and 
tell  his  secret  (Odyssey,  Book  IV).  Homer  is  him- 
self the  Proteus  who  has  the  ability  and  the  mu- 
tability to  assume  all  external  shapes,  the  running 
water,  the  leafy  tree,  the  furious  beast  and  creep- 
ing reptile,  in  fine  the  whole  world  of  Appearance, 
which  the  reader  (like  Menelaus)  is  to  grasp  and 
penetrate  till  he  reaches  its  central  creative  energy. 
Thus  the  poet  mythologizes  himself  undergoing  his 
varied  poetic  transformations,  as  the  master  of  all 
possible  metamorphoses,  which  he  takes  on  for  his 
ultimate  self-expression.  In  like  thought  Dante 
defines  himself  as  poet  to  be  ''trajismutable 
through  all  guises";  inherently  metamorphic  (per 
tutte  guise  transmutahUe) . 

Very  significant  is  it,  therefore,  to  catch  Homer 
turning  back  upon  himself  and  defining  himself,  of 
course  not  in  a  reflective  way,  but  in  the  form 
native  to  him,  the  mythical.  We  are  not  to  forget, 
however,  that  this  act  of  self -inspect  ion  and  self- 
description  is  found  in  his  Odyssey,  the  poem  of 


THE  ACHILLEAN  HOMER  xci 

his  older  time,  when  the  man  naturally  looks  back- 
ward and  inward  in  order  to  post  the  book  of  life. 
Such  is  the  Protean  Homer,  infinitely  self-trans- 
formable— ^but  how  are  we  to  handle  such  ever- 
shifting  appearances,  the  illusive  shapes  of  this 
poetic  Panurge? 

To  such  a  problem  likewise  the  answer  is  given: 
through  all  this  multiplicity  of  the  senses  you  must 
persist  till  you  come  to  the  One  underneath  the 
outer  varied  play  of  forms,  to  the  Man  himself, 
that  is,  to  his  very  Self.  At  least  some  such  inti- 
mation seems  to  lurk  in  the  poem 's  own  designation 
of  Proteus,  though  it  sounds  somewhat  cryptic: 
*'He  is  the  true,  the  immortal;  without  error,  with- 
out death ;  he  knows  the  depths  of  all  the  sea ' '  of 
existence  {Odyssey  IV).  Such  strong  premoni- 
tions of  Plato's  Idea  Homer  already  shows,  though 
not  in  the  abstract  terms  of  the  philosopher,  but  in 
the  imaginative  semblances  of  the  poet. 

Accordingly  we  shall  seek  to  catch  a  few  autobi- 
ographic flashes  from  the  Iliady  following  what  ap- 
pear to  be  some  hints  of  its  creator  himself  about 
himself.  Achilles  rises  the  dominating  character 
into  whom  Homer  pours  his  full  selfhood  at  his 
present  highest  and  best.  Hence  our  problem  now 
is  to  seize  arid  to  hold  our  transmutable  poetic 
Proteus  till  we  make  him  show  what  he  really  is, 
the  very  truth  and  everlastingness  of  himself. 


xcii  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 


The  Hero  as  National. 

Achilles  is,  in  the  first  place,  to  go  through  a 
course  of  training  which  makes  him  completely  na- 
tional, evolving  him  out  of  a  narrow  provincial 
spirit  into  the  Hero  of  total  Hellas,  the  represent- 
ative of  the  entire  undivided  Hellenic  folk,  both 
Greek  and  Trojan.  Such  is,  when  rightly  seen,  the 
national  movement  of  the  whole  Iliad  as  it  unfolds 
from  its  opening  book  to  its  last,  and  incarnates  it- 
self in  the  evolution  of  its  Great  Man,  Achilles. 

The  first  essential  fact  and  word  of  the  Iliad  is 
the  wrath  of  Achilles,  of  its  vengeful  hero ;  the  last 
essential  fact,  though  not  the  last  word,  of  the  Iliad 
is  the  reconciliation  of  Achilles,  its  implacable  hero 
now  become  placable  even  toward  his  foe.  The 
twenty-four  books  of  the  poem  move  between  these 
two  psychological  stages  of  its  one  supreme  person- 
ality, upon  whose  mental  attitude  a  great  national 
event  is  made  to  hinge.  Thus  we  have  the  record 
of  a  cardinal  human  experience  which  presents  the 
question :  what  is  the  individual  to  do  with  his  of- 
fended self  in  the  supreme  crisis  of  his  own  career 
and  that  of  his  nation?  The  problem  is  presented 
with  so  much  intensity  and  sympathy  that  we  can- 
not help  feel  the  suffering  poet  in  his  passion-riven 
Achilles;  Homer  himself  has  gone  through  these 
soul-wrenching  trials,  has  known  these  Oceanic 
tossings  between  wrath  and  reconciliation.     Fur- 


THE  HERO  A8  NATIONAL  xciii 

thermore  he  as  poet  has  to  project  them  out  of  his 
heart  into  the  relieving  word  that  he  get  free  of  his 
spirit's  crushing  burden.  So  we  should  again  note 
well  that  all  of  Homer 's  poetry  is  ultimately  a  per- 
sonal confession  in  spite  of  its  naive  objectiveness ; 
the  very  sincerity  and  necessity  of  his  song  pro- 
claim that  he  has  to  sing  his  autobiography,  and  can 
at  his  deepest  sing  nothing  else. 

One  of  the  transmitted  difficulties  about  the  Iliad 
is  that  its  title  is  a  misnomer,  or  at  least  suggests  a 
wrong  meaning.  For  the  term  Iliad  naturally  im- 
plies a  poem  upon  the  whole  Trojan  theme  from 
start  to  finish,  the  song  of  Ilium  in  its  entire  myth- 
ical content.  But  the  poem  Iliad,  as  we  have  it,  is 
a  very  brief  episode  embracing  only  a  few  days  of 
the  ten  years '  war,  not  to  speak  of  the  many  conse- 
quences springing  from  it  and  included  in  the  full 
sweep  of  its  occurrences.  And  the  mentioned  epi- 
sode is  limited  to  the  one  mighty  experience  of 
Achilles,  between  whose  ups  and  downs,  however, 
the  numerous  incidents  and  personages  of  the  en- 
tire war  are  interjected.  Hence,  too,  the  whole 
career  of  the  hero  is  not  given,  but  only  the  one 
central  epbch  of  it.  So  the  Iliad  should  be  prop- 
erly called  the  Achillead,  if  designated  after  the 
manner  of  the  Odyssey  or  the  Eneid,  that  is,  if 
named  from  the  hero  whose  typical  deed,  or  rather 
cycle  of  experience  it  celebrates.  Some  authors, 
(notably  Mr.  Grote)  have  used  this  term  for  a  por- 
tion of  the  Iliady  especially  for  those  books  in  which 
Achilles  takes  part  in  person.     Such  a  view  of 


xciv  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

course  tears  the  poem  to  tatters  and  leaves  it  a 
ragged  batch  of  disparate  songs.  But  the  evolution 
of  Achilles  is  what  centralizes  into  unity  all  the 
variety  of  the  Iliad,  which  thus  becomes  rightly  the 
Achillead. 

Taking  Homer  as  mirrored  in  the  leading  psychi- 
cal states  of  Achilles  which  are  set  forth  in  the 
Iliad,  we  may  trace  three  distinct  stages  not. ex- 
ternally dateable,  but  internally  recognizable  and 
to  a  degree  definable.  As  already  indicated,  we  find 
signs  of  the  youthful  poet  in  his  Thessalian  home, 
where  he  also  places  the  birth  and  rearing  of  his 
hero,  Achilles,  these  being  primarily  his  own.  The 
mountainous  landscape  of  Olympus,  seat  of  the 
Gods,  dominates  the  sublimer  scenery  of  the  Iliad, 
as  the  Olympian  deities  from  on  high  dominate  the 
course  of  its  events  and  the  actions  of  its  persons. 
Then  we  witness  the  double  breach,  with  the  double 
overcoming  thereof  in  the  soul  of  the  hero  which 
reflects  itself  in  the  words  of  the  poet,  who  must 
have  felt  the  same  life-experience  in  order  to  tell  it 
with  so  much  sympathy.  These  three  stages  we 
may  discriminate  a  little  more  fully. 

I.  The  young  Thessalian  (or  Phthian)  Achilles 
is  more  intimately  known  and  described  in  his  na- 
tive environment  than  any  other  Homeric  charac- 
ter. The  Ithacan  setting  of  the  Odyssey,  for  in- 
stance, is  in  comparison  a  foreign  knowledge,  evi- 
dently acquired  through  temporary  visits,  and  pos- 
sibly in  part  through  hearsay,  since  the  poet  more 
than  once  shows  himself  uncertain  of  and  even  mis- 


THE  HERO  AS  NATIONAL  xcv 

taken  about  the  island's  topography.  Then  in  the 
spirit  of  young  Achilles  we  already  are  made  to 
feel  a  protest  against  his  circumstances,  a  bound- 
bursting  urge  prophetic  of  his  future  heroship. 
Storming  against  his  own  narrow  pinfold,  the 
young  poet  projects  into  his  wrathful  hero  his  own 
tempestuous  struggle  with  the  fetters  of  his  im- 
prisoned but  aspiring  spirit. 

Hence  the  birth  of  Homer's  genius  we  locate  in 
Thessaly;  his  spiritual  nascence  takes  place  there 
mid  the  upheaving  Olympian  landscape,  home  of 
his  Gods.  For  they  constitute  his  first  cognizance 
and  earliest  formulation  of  divine  world-govern- 
ment, which,  in  one  way  or  other,  overrules  and 
determines  the  course  of  his  two  poems. 

Moreover  it  would  seem  that  in  Thessaly  prob- 
ably the  young  imaginative  Homer  becomes  aware 
of  the  grand  theme  of  his  age,  and  indeed  of  all 
ages,  the  Trojan  War,  and  sublimates  it  into  a  con- 
flict among  the  Gods,  not  merely  among  mortals. 
For  Olympus  there  overhangs  both  his  body  and 
soul,  and  makes  him  its  poet.  And  Northern 
Greece  had  taken  a  memorable  part  in  the  grand 
Trojan  enterprise,  whereof  the  boy  must  have  often 
heard  in  song  and  story. 

We  may,  thei*efore,  designate  Achilles  as  North- 
ern, Olympian,  mountainous — the  young  heroic 
man  as  the  ideal  of  the  young  daring  poet,  the  very 
incarnation  of  the  divine  energy,  in  whom  are  mir- 
rored the  mighty  convulsions  of  nature.  He  is 
gifted  with  the  elemental  power  of  his  turbulent 


xcvi  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

physical  environment,  though  in  the  milder  civi- 
lized virtues  he  at  first  is  wanting,  even  if  he  will 
win  some  of  them  through  later  experience. 

It  is  evident  that  the  land  of  Achilles  in  the 
North  lies  quite  off  to  one  side,  and  will  not  be  spe- 
cially concerned  about  the  restoration  of  remote 
Southern  Helen.  Moreover  toward  the  South  and 
Agamemnon  there  is  in  that  backward  Thessalian 
folk  a  feeling  of  separation,  of  local  prejudice,  if  not 
of  downright  dislike.  Still  those  rude  Northern- 
ers are  the  hardier  sons  of  Hellas,  and  naturally 
furnish  the  strong  man,  the  Hero.  Hence  they 
must  be  won  for  the  great  cause,  if  the  Greeks  are 
to  be  saved  from  defeat,  and  Helen  recovered. 

So  it  comes  that  we  read,  in  a  number  of  pass- 
ages of  the  Iliad  about  the  embassy  of  those  two 
well-worded  conciliatory  Southerners,  aged  Nestor 
and  youth  Ulysses,  to  the  retired  Phthian  court  of 
the  Northerner  Peleus,  father  of  the  promising  lad 
Achilles,  in  order  to  gain  allies  for  the  coming  war. 
Thus  we  behold  the  two  best  heads  of  the  South,  the 
old  man's  wisdom  and  the  young  man's  enthusi- 
asm, on  a  mission  to  the  outlying  lukewarm  North 
for  help  in  the  grand  national  enterprise.  Great  is 
their  success ;  they  win  the  royal  father  Peleus,  but 
especially  they  enlist  the  future  hero  Achilles  and 
his  Myrmidons,  who  soon  march  out  of  their  little 
confined  nook  into  the  arena  of  the  World's  His- 
tory. 

But  that  inherent  difference  and  rivalry,  if  not 
jealousy,    between    Northerner    and    Southerner 


THE  HERO  AS  NATIONAL  xcvii 

breaks  out  into  the  open  quarrel  and  separation, 
with  which  the  poet  starts  his  Iliad.  Nearly  ten 
years  of  warfare  had  gone  by  during  which  no 
little  friction  had  been  felt  on  both  sides,  when  the 
culminating  breach  between  Hero  and  Leader 
(Book  I)  takes  place  on  the  plain  of  Troy  in  pres- 
ence of  the  enemy. 

II.  After  a  terrific  convulsion  both  of  mind 
and  heart,  the  Northern  hero  gives  up  his  moun- 
tainous wrath,  and  is  reconciled  with  his  nation's 
South  and  its  ruler,  Agamemnon.  This  signifies  a 
cardinal  stage  in  his  spirit's  development:  he  has 
learned  to  forgive,  and  to  recognize  a  national 
principle  above  his  individual  passion.  He  repre- 
sents the  ever-recurring  revolt  of  genius  against 
tradition,  of  the  self -lord  against  the  over-lord,  of 
originality  against  prescription.  The  young  man, 
conscious  if  not  over-conscious  of  his  merit,  runs 
his  tilt  with  the  older  man,  the  lawful  leader,  who 
represents  the  established  order.  The  South, 
Agamemnon's  realm,  was  the  more  advanced  in 
wealth  and  culture,  and  so  the  more  conventional, 
and  likewise  the  better  organized  division  of  Hel- 
las; hence  naturally  it  was  more  obedient  and  in- 
deed submissive  than  the  wilder,  more  elemental 
but  stronger  North.  Yet  this  Northland  was  the 
right  home  of  the  Greek  hero  and  of  the  Greek 
Gods,  yea  of  the  Greek  poet  too,  the  maker  or  re- 
maker  of  this  whole  Greek  world.  The  native  orig- 
inal vigor  of  the  Hellenic  stock  lay  in  the  North, 
slumbering   there   indeed,   but   capable   of   being 


XCViii  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

roused  to  realize  its  latent  genius  for  the  supreme 
work  of  civilisation,  which  is  the  stake  at  Troy. 

But  now  the  emphatic  point  is  that  the  acrid 
dualism  between  the  North  and  South  of  Greece  is 
reconciled,  so  that  heroism  and  leadership,  genius 
and  authority,  unite  in  the  common  national  en- 
terprise against  Troy.  Radical  and  prolonged  have 
been  the  testing  and  the  purification  which  the  hero 
and  his  people  have  undergone,  a  kind  of  purga- 
torial discipline  for  the  coming  task.  Through 
eighteen  books  of  the  poem  has  the  trial  lasted, 
when  we  behold  the  reconciled  Achilles  taking  up 
into  his  new-won  spirit  the  two  previously  opposing 
sections  of  the  Achaean  folk,  the  Northern  and 
the  Southern,  each  needful  to  and  indeed  supple- 
mentary of  the  other  in  the  achievement  of  tha 
grand  national  deed,  which  could  never  have  been 
performed  with  that  deep  scission  festering  in  the 
Greek  heart. 

Hence  we  may  now  acclaim  Achilles  the  Achaean, 
or  rather  the  Pan-Achaean  hero,  using  a  com- 
pounded word  which  the  poet  himself  has  sanc- 
tioned. That  is,  he  has  united  and  healed  all  Eu- 
ropean Hellas,  the  two  previously  divided  Achaeas, 
Northern  and  Southern,  into  the  one  soul  ready  for 
the  fresh  exploit.  From  his  former  narrow,  local, 
Myrmidon  stage  he  has  risen  to  be  the  total  Greek 
protagonist  against  the  Trojan;  the  Pan- Achaean 
hero  we  may  now  title  him  in  his  present  lofty  at- 
tainment, even  if  there  is  yet  to  appear  to  him  a 
still  loftier  goal. 


THE  HERO  A8  NATIONAL  xcix 

But  we  are  not  to  leave  out  of  this  epochal  expe- 
rience of  the  hero  the  biographic  fact  that  the  poet 
himself  goes  through  the  same  trial,  and  so  can  re- 
count it  in  all  its  fullness  and  intensity.  Thessalian 
Homer  shares  at  first  in  the  wrath  of  Thessalian 
Achilles,  and  portrays  it  as  if  it  were  his  own, 
which  it  doubtless  was  for  a  time.  As  already  set 
forth,  he  too  was  a  Northerner  at  the  start,  the 
young  genius  fervid  with  revolt  against  the  trans- 
mitted authority.  But  he  also  overcomes  his  one- 
sided juvenile  animosity  through  the  bitter  experi- 
ence of  life,  and  gets  reconciled  with  his  Greek 
world  of  prescribed  order.  So  the  poet  in  his  turn 
advances  into  his  Pan-Achaean  stage  of  reconcilia- 
tion, which  he  likewise  celebrates  in  deepest  sym- 
pathy with  his  hero  and  his  nation. 

Achilles  has,  then,  become  the  reconciled  Pan- 
Achaean  patriot,  eager  to  resume  his  warfare 
against  Troy,  and  to  join  battle  especially  with  her 
hero  Hector.  Thus,  however,  a  new  and  mightier, 
more  God-defiant  wrath  seizes  him  and  urges  him 
madly  forward  against  the  Trojan  foe.  The  hero, 
in  an  irresistible  outburst  of  volcanic  energy,  will 
overwhelm  the  Trojans,  drive  them  back  within 
their  stone  walls,  and  finally  slay  their  doughtiest 
champion  Hector,  who  dares  remain  outside  in 
equal  combat. 

III.  Now  out  of  this  second  fresh  paroxysm  (as 
we  may  call  it)  of  wrath  which  boils  over  against 
the  Trojans,  who  have  slain  Patroclus,  heroic 
Achilles  is  to  rise  and  to  recover  from  his  revenge, 


C  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINE8 

and  to  be  reconciled  with  his  deadliest  foes,  though 
they  have  shed  the  blood  of  his  dearest  friend.  For 
he  renounces  even  this  his  second,  deeper-grounded 
rage,  and  ransoms  the  lifeless  body  of  Hector  to 
Priam  the  Trojan  father  and  king.  Moreover  he 
makes  a  truce  with  Troy,  seemingly  the  first  and 
only  real  one  in  the  whole  Ten  Years'  War. 

But  now  takes  place  another  unique  occurrence : 
the  poem  itself  concludes  upon  this  final  cessation 
of  warfare,  apparently  with  some  suddenness, 
which  has  always  stirred  wonder.  For  Troy  is  not 
yet  taken,  Helen  is  not  restored,  the  purpose  of 
the  grand  expedition  is  not  fulfilled.  Still  there  is 
peace,  even  if  but  temporary,  between  the  two  pri- 
mordial adversaries  of  the  one  Hellenic  stock,  for 
the  Trojans,  as  already  indicated,  are  racially  of 
Greek  blood,  though  turning  the  face  toward  Asia. 
Evidently  the  Northern  hero  was  not  so  very  ar- 
dent about  the  recovery  of  the  dubious  Southern 
lady  held  a  captive  in  Troy;  he  had  another 
stronger  motive  for  his  share  in  the  hostile  expedi- 
tion against  the  Orient.  But  Homer  openly  re- 
fuses to  sing  the  death  of  his  hero  and  the  sack  of 
Troy,  both  of  which  events  he  had  already  prophe- 
sied in  his  poem. 

It  is  evident,  however,  that  Achilles  has  advanced 
to  a  new  higher  phase  of  his  spirit  than  ever  before : 
he  has  risen  now  to  be  Pan-Hellenic  in  thought  and 
deed,  taking  up  and  uniting  within  his  soul  the  most 
profound  and  poignant  dualism  of  the  whole  Hel- 
lenic people.     It  is  on  this  height  that  the  poet 


THE  HERO  AS  NATIONAL  ci 

perches  his  hero,  and  there  leaves  him  to  the  gaze 
of  all  coming  time.  The  last  Book  of  the  Iliad  (the 
Twenty  Fourth)  is  devoted  wholly  to  this  final  per- 
sonal sublimation  of  the  Greek  hero,  whoso  supreme 
deed  of  heroism  is  enacted  not  on  the  field  of  battle, 
but  in  achieving  the  reconcilement  and  the  unifica- 
tion of  the  deepest  rift  of  his  entire  Hellenic  na- 
tionality. At  the  same  time  the  poet  places  this 
self-mastery  of  the  hero  over  his  mightiest  wrath 
as  the  culmination  of  all  his  victories,  as  verily  his 
most  heroic  conquest. 

Thus  the  grand  discipline  of  Achilles  winds 
through  and  closes  the  poem,  making  it  an  Achil- 
lead,  not  an  Iliad,  for  the  movement  of  it  from  be- 
ginning to  end  is  that  of  an  individual  soul  evolv- 
ing from  the  germ  till  the  last  complete  flowering 
of  the  hero.  The  poet  distinctly  refuses  to  let 
Achilles  enter  the  Trojan  battle-field  again — that 
would  be  a  lapse,  a  descent  from  his  supreme  he- 
roic altitude,  and  would  tear  open  afresh  the  old 
Pan-Hellenic  wound,  now  stanched  if  not  healed. 
So  the  poet  unfolds  the  supreme  hero  of  peace  out 
of  the  supreme  hero  of  war,  and  then  shuts  his 
book.  The  later  legend  of  Troy's  fall  Homer  knows 
about  and  mentions  repeatedly,  but  he  emphatically 
declines  making  it  the  theme  of  his  song — a  most 
important  fact  for  the  full  comprehension  of  his 
work. 

IV.  If  we  now  take  a  searching  look  back  over 
the  preceding  section,  we  observe  the  poem's  hero 
unfolding    successively    through    three    cardinal 


cii  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

stages  of  a  prolonged  soul-wrenching  discipline,  to 
the  end  that  he  develop  into  and  fulfil  his  destiny 
as  the  supreme  national  hero  of  the  whole  Hellenic 
race.    These  three  stages  we  may  here  recapitulate : 

(1)  Achilles  as  Thessalian — his  germinal  start- 
ing-point in  his  original  petty  contracted  Phthian 
homestead. 

(2)  Achilles  as  Pan- Achaean — reconciling  his 
individual  Northern  conflict  with  Southern  author- 
ity vested  in  King  Agamemnon. 

(3)  Achilles  as  Pan-Hellenic — reconciling  his 
conflict  with  Troy,  and  closing  for  a  while  the  pri- 
mordial cleavage  in  the  Hellenic  folk-soul  between 
Western  Greek  and  Eastern  Trojan. 

Moreover  we  are  to  observe  that  this  experience 
of  the  hero  is  essentially  national,  and  i^-hows  his 
sweep  up  from  his  insignificant  little  estate  into 
being  the  supreme  exemplar  of  political  reconcilia- 
tion and  unity  for  his  people.  Herein  we  may  re- 
flect that  he  is  to  a  degree  typical  of  Greece  her- 
self— the  small  ever  rising  and  aspiring  the  all. 
We  can  trace  the  fore-described  three  leading 
stages  of  Achilles  through  the  whole  of  Greek  his- 
tory down  to  the  present.  For  just  that  term,  the 
Pan-Hellenic  hero,  is  the  designation  which  is  most 
commonly  and  fittingly  applied  to  contemporary 
Venizelos,  who  has  sought  with  so  much  skill  and 
courage  to  harmonize  and  unify  to-day's  scattered 
Greek  peoples  into  one  Hellenic  nationality.  Again 
we  remark  with  fresh  wonder  how  the  last  Greek 
hero  repeats  and  interprets  the  first  one,  whose 


THE  HERO  A8  ETHICAL  ciii 

national  lineaments  have  been  so  enduringly  limned 
by  the  old  poet,  who  must  himself  have  felt  and 
seen  them  as  his  own. 

Hence  it  comes  next  in  course  for  us  to  observe 
the  imaginative  Homer  portraying  his  present  he- 
roic personality  (Achilles)  not  merely  as  national 
and  objective,  but  as  ethical  and  subjective ;  for  the 
hero  is  now  to  be  seen  following  not  alone  the  outer 
national  behest  of  the  folk-soul  but  obeying  the 
inner  dictate  of  his  own  soul. 

II. 

The  Hero  as  Ethical. 

It  is  often  said  that  the  ethical  consciousness  is 
wanting  in  Homer,  especially  in  his  Iliad.  Unde- 
niable is  the  fact  that  both  his  Gods  and  his  He- 
roes at  times  give  a  shock  to  our  moral  feelings — 
a  statement  which  is  also  true  of  Shakespeare,  of 
Goethe,  and  even  of  Dante.  Still  I  shall  hazard 
the  assertion  that  the  deepest  strain  in  the  charac- 
ter of  Achilles  is  ethical,  underlying  even  his  na- 
tional motive  as  set  forth  in  the  foregoing  section. 
And  still  further,  the  much-sought  unity  of  the 
Iliad  is  to  be  found  in  the  ethical  movement  which 
not  only  indwells  but  ultimately  propels  its  action. 

Accordingly  we  are  now  to  test  whether  the  ethi- 
cal predicates  right  and  wrong,  good  and  evil,  duty 
and  even  conscience,  are  applicable  to  the  hero  as 
his  basic  principles  of  conduct.  Can  he  be  seen  to 
be  swayed  by  an  inward  monitor  as  the  final  guide 


civ  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

of  his  behavior?  Does  the  poet  depict  Achilles  in 
the  hero 's  prof oundest  changes  of  spirit  as  a  moral 
being?  He  certainly  passes  through  some  of  the 
deepest  personal  experiences  of  which  our  mortal- 
ity is  capable :  how  shall  we  construe  them  in  their 
ultimate  significance? 

In  the  settlement  of  this  question,  the  first  point 
is  to  note  that  the  innermost  movement  of  the  Iliad 
deals  with  the  Right,  the  Wrong  and  the  Recovery 
from  Wrong  of  the  Hero,  through  all  which  phases 
Achilles  passes  not  only  once  but  twice  in  the 
course  of  the  poem.  That  is,  the  Hero  is  shown  in 
two  grand  rounds  of  soul-experience  which  include 
two  mightily  heroic  Wraths  and  two  even  more 
mightily  heroic  Reconciliations.  As  this  gives  not 
only  the  inner  spiritual  axis  of  the  Hero,  but  also 
the  creative  organism  of  the  whole  Iliad,  we  shall 
outline  its  leading  members  more  fully. 

I.  First  Round  of  the  Achillean  soul-ex- 
perience, moving  from  Wrath  to  Reconciliation, 
but  confining  itself  to  the  Hero's  own  Achaean 
people  {Iliad,  Books  I-XIX).  Three  main  stages 
as  follows : 

(1)  Achilles  in  the  Eight.  The  Northern  Hero 
is  dishonored  and  wronged  by  the  Southern  Leader, 
and  retires  to  his  tent  in  wrath,  letting  the  enemy 
conquer — of  which  Trojan  victory  the  poet  gives  a 
full  record  (Book  I-IX). 

(2)  Achilles  in  the  Wrong,  His  own  Greeks  in 
an  embassy  offer  him  apology,  restitution,  and 
reparation  of  the  injury.     He  refuses  their  ad- 


THE  HERO  AS  ETHICAL  ev 

vances,  and  even  rejects  the  prayer  of  his  closest 
guiding  friend  and  teacher  Phoenix. — So  the  battle 
rages  on  without  the  Hero  till  the  death  of  Patro- 
clus  (Books  IX-XVIII). 

(3)  Achilles^  Recovery  from  Wrong.  His 
change,  his  grand  self-conquest,  showing  his  new 
heroism;  his  reconciliation,  inner  and  outer,  with 
his  leader  and  his  people  (Books  XVIII,  XIX). 

II.  Second  Round  op  the  Achillean  soul- 
experience,  moving  from  Wrath  to  Reconciliation, 
but  now  extended  so  as  to  embrace  the  enemy  of 
Hellas,  the  Trojans  (Books  XIX-XXIV).  Three 
main  stages  as  follows : 

(1)  Achilles  in  the  Right.  The  Greek  Hero  as 
dutiful  soldier  now  enters  the  battle,  assails  and  de- 
stroys the  foes  of  his  people  and  of  the  Hellenic 
world.  His  exploits  culminate  in  the  death  of 
Hector,  the  Trojan  Hero,  who  was  the  slayer  of  his 
dearest  friend  Patroclus  (Book  XIX-XXII). 

(2)  Achilles  in  the  Wrong.  The  Greek  Hero's 
Titanic  Wrath  once  more  whelms  him  over  the  limit 
of  his  Right  into  Wrong.  He  maltreats  the  dead 
body  of  Hector  against  the  instinct  of  a  common 
humanity,  which  the  poet  voices  in  reproof.  Also 
he  violates  in  such  conduct  the  will  of  the  Gods, 
which  is  heard  in  the  message  of  Highest  Zeus: 
"Tell  him  (Achilles)  that  the  Gods  are  angry  at 
him,  and  I  most  of  all. ' '    {Iliad,  XXIV,  113. ) 

(3)  Achilles'  Recovery  from  Wrong.  The 
Greek  Hero  again  renounces  his  Wrath,  and  re- 
ceives graciously  in  his  tent  Priam  King  of  Troy 


Cvi  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

and  father  of  Hector.  The  latter 's  corpse  he  ran- 
soms and  sends  back  to  the  city.  At  the  same  time 
he  makes  a  truce  with  Priam  and  the  Trojans,  upon 
which  highest  all-hallowing  moment  of  universal 
peace,  both  Pan-Achaean  and  Pan-Hellenic,  the 
Iliad  closes. 

Such  are  the  two  symmetrical  Rounds  of  the 
grand  discipline  of  the  Greek  Hero,  which  consti- 
tute the  very  life  of  the  poem,  showing  both  its 
outer  organisation  and  the  inner  process  of  its 
creative  conception  or  idea.  Moreover  it  is  from 
the  foregoing  point  of  view  that  we  can  truly  be- 
hold and  realize  the  unity  of  the  Iliad,  its  ultimate 
symmetry  and  oneness  of  structure  and  of  thought. 
"We  may  be  permitted  to  believe  that  if  F.  A.  Wolf 
had  really  seen,  appreciated,  and  proclaimed  in  "his 
famous  Prolegomena  this  central  ethical  structure 
and  indeed  homogeneity  of  the  Iliad,  there  would 
have  been  no  Homeric  controversy  with  its  por- 
tentous mass  of  largely  profitless  brain-work,  which 
has  been  squandered  on  both  sides. 

But  that  which  the  reader  should  now  specially 
examine  and  assimilate,  is  the  soulful  process  of  the 
Hero,  which  he  experiences  in  his  own  life's  con- 
duct, namely  his  Right,  his  Wrong,  and  his  Self- 
restoration  duplicated  in  his  two  supreme  attitudes, 
toward  his  friends  the  Greeks  and  toward  his  ene- 
mies the  Trojans.  Such  are  the  ethical  terms  in 
which  the  poet  sets  distinctly  forth  the  ultimate 
factors  in  the  training  of  his  heroic  Achilles.  We 
may  parallel  them  with  the  process  of  innocence, 


THE  HERO  AS  ETHICAL  cvii 

transgression,  regeneration — words  which  are  per- 
haps more  familiar  to  our  moral  consciousness  than 
to  Homer's. 

Round  this  ethical  core  of  the  poem,  as  it  may  be 
called,  rages  the  human  maelstrom  of  war,  passion, 
destruction.  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  Iliad 
bears  in  its  Oceanic  oscillations  the  extremes  of  the 
human  Ethos — wrath,  revenge,  savagery  on  the  one 
hand,  reconciliation,  forgiveness,  mercy  on  the 
other.  It  would  not  be  the  great  universal  poem 
that  it  is — it  would  not  be  eternal  for  Greece  and 
for  all  the  world,  unless  it  carried  in  its  bosom  the 
time's  Hell  and  Heaven.  And  these  extremes  are 
battling  not  merely  in  the  action  of  the  poem  but 
also  in  the  heart  of  its  leading  character,  of  its 
Hero ;  most  unethical  we  may  easily  prove  Achilles, 
yet  most  ethical,  otherwise  he  would  not  be  the 
whole  man.  Both  sides  of  him,  the  negative  and 
the  positive,  are  shown  forth  in  all  tKeir  contra- 
diction, yet  likewise  in  their  final  harmony. 

We  may,  therefore,  affirm  that  the  poet's  design, 
seemingly  his  conscious  design,  for  he  repeats  it 
again  and  again,  stressing  to  his  hearer  or  reader 
that  his  Achilles  is  not  to  be  taken  merely  as  a 
physical  Hero  of  surpassing  strength  and  courage, 
but  as  an  ethical  Hero  also.  Certainly  he  is  en- 
dowed with  colossal  passions,  yet  with  the  more  co- 
lossal power  of  overcoming  and  transcending  them, 
not  only  for  once  but  for  twice,  and  so  for  all.  Hu- 
man he  is  to  the  last  degree,  laden  with  many  very 
finite  predicates;  yet  divine  too,  hence  poetically 


CViii  HOMER'ti  LIFE-LINES 

the  Goddess-born.  Heroism  he  shows  in  conquer- 
ing Hector,  but  a  greater  heroism  over  a  mightier 
antagonist  in  conquering  himself.  So  we  are 
finally  to  behold  Homer  making  his  Achilles  an 
ethical  Hero,  who  meets,  fights,  and  puts  down  the 
purely  physical  Hero  in  himself,  winning  a  far 
more  difficult  and  glorious  victory  than  the  external 
one  over  Hector. 

How  the  poet  would  have  us  in  the  end  regard 
his  Hero  is  throbbed  most  feelingly  in  the  fare- well 
words  of  Achilles  to  his  broken  foe,  the  aged  king 
Priam,  now  a  suppliant  before  him:  ^'So  be  it, 
old  man,  as  thou  biddest;  I  shall  stop  the  war  as 
long  a  time  as  thou  commandest."  These  are  the 
last  words  we  hear  from  Achilles  in  the  Iliad 
(XXIV.  669)  ;  tendering  such  a  voice  of  compas- 
sion and  reconciliation  he  vanishes  from  our  view, 
having  reached  the  culminant  peak  of  his  heroic 
deeds,  when  the  poet  has  unfolded  his  character  to 
its  supreme  moment,  which  is  his  end  but  not  his 
death. 

And  here  we  have  to  chronicle  the  utter  failure 
of  Homeric  literary  interpretation  to  appreciate 
and  to  set  forth  adequately  this  compassionate  and 
conciliatory  element  in  the  total  personality  of 
Achilles.  The  emphasis  has  been  all  placed  upon 
the  warrior,  angry,  blood-thirsty,  unappeasable. 
The  most  distinguished  and  influential  English- 
speaking  authors  who  have  written  elaborately 
upon  Homer's  Iliadf  are  doubtless  the  statesman 
Gladstone  and  the  historian  Grote.     Different  as 


THE  HERO  AS  ETHICAL 


CIX 


they  are  in  spirit  and  even  opposite  on  many 
points,  they  are  alike  in  never  getting  beyond  the 
wrath  of  Achilles  in  their  views  of  his  character 
and  career.  These  two  very  able  minds  must  have 
read  and  repeated  hundred  of  times  the  double 
reconciliation  of  the  Hero,  still  they  show  no  realiz- 
ing sense  of  its  meaning  and  place  in  the  poem  or 
in  the  evolution  of  the  Hero.  Fundamentally  pug- 
nacious seem  even  these  two  peaceful  Britons,  some- 
how stuck  fast  in  such  a  consciousness.  Perhaps 
there  is  also  some  trace  of  folk-psychology  in  the 
destructive  German  criticism  of  Homer,  which  as- 
sails his  poems  so  violently;  with  vengeance,  even 
wdth  venom  it  slashes  the  poet  at  times,  especially 
when  under  the  ruthless  dissecting-knife  of  Lach- 
mann  and  Kirchoff,  though  their  first  teacher  Wolf 
is  somewhat  more  moderate.  And  to-day  the  stu- 
dent of  the  old  Greek  poet,  looking  back  at  the 
massive  Teutonic  attack  upon  him  led  by  the  Uni- 
versity Professors  during  the  last  century,  cannot 
help  recalling  the  present  century's  assault  made 
by  the  huge  German  army  in  the  same  Southern 
direction  upon  the  Mediterranean  world. 

Perhaps,  however,  we  may  attribute  thi?  peculiar 
lack  of  obvious  vision  in  all  Homeric  literary  in- 
terpretation to  the  traditional  influence  of  an  an- 
cient classic  authority.  That  famous  ever-cited  line 
of  the  Eoman  poet  Horace,  in  which  he  character- 
izes Achilles,  seems  to  have  led  and  misled  all  fu- 
ture expositors: 

ImpigeVf  iracundus,  inexorahilis,  acer. 


ex  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

This  little  pyramid  of  adjectives  merely  gives  one 
of  the  Hero's  stages,  the  first  as  above  described, 
while  the  other  two  stages,  really  the  more  impor- 
tant, are  left  out,  seemingly  for  all  coming  time, 
if  we  may  judge  by  the  general  drift  of  the  litera- 
ture of  the  subject.  Still  we  believe  that  the  open- 
hearted  reader  of  Homer  has  ever  communed  with 
the  total  all-rounded  Achilles,  instinctively  if  not 
consciously,  for  it  is  just  this  ethical  element  which 
keeps  him  and  his  poem  eternally  alive,  being  true 
yesterday,  to-day  and  forever. 

Such  then,  is  the  outline  in  which  we  construe 
the  Hero  of  the  Iliad  as  ethical,  as  passing  through 
the  various  stages  of  his  inner  discipline  of  wrong 
and  right  till  he  reaches  the  highest.  Along  the 
same  lines  the  whole  poem  is  to  be  seen  organizing 
itself  in  its  ultimate  scope.  (Those  who  wish  to 
follow  out  this  ethical  conception  and  construction 
applied  to  the  poem  in  all  its  details,  may  be  re- 
ferred to  the  author's  Commentary  on  the  Iliad, 
pp.  20-40,  423-30,  464-80,  and  throughout  the  en- 
tire work,  which  is  an  interpretation  of  the  entire 
Iliad  from  this  point  of  view). 

But  ere  we  start  our  next  step,  let  us  look  back 
and  take  a  quick  survey  of  what  has  been  passed 
through.  We  have  seen  that  the  foregoing  ethical 
movement  is  manifested  not  only  in  the  poem  and 
in  its  hero,  but  also  in  Homer  himself,  and  must  be 
considered  as  a  part  or  stage  of  his  spirit  *s  biogra- 
phy. The  double  wrath  and  reconciliation  are  to  be 
found  and  realized  by  the  reader  in  these  three 


THE  HERO'S  TEACHER— PHOENIX  cxi 

forms:  (1)  in  the  poem  as  literature  (objective)  ; 
(2)  in  the  Hero  as  soul  (subjective)  ;  (3)  in  the 
poet  as  maker  (creative).  Certainly  a  lofty-minded 
school  of  life  for  this  early,  almost  writless  age: 
does  Homer  give  any  hint  of  its  scource  and  its 
master  ? 

III. 
The  Hero's  Teacher — Phoenix. 

Whence  did  Achilles  derive  this  unique  trait  of 
overcoming  his  natural  disposition  to  wrath  and  re- 
venge? The  poet  in  a  long  passage  {Iliad,  IX,  427- 
605)  has  introduced  the  Hero's  teacher,  Phoenix, 
really  his  ethical  teacher,  for  the  three  R's  are  not 
mentioned,  nor  are  perhaps  mentionable.  Now  the 
supreme  lesson  of  this  earliest  Homeric  schoolmas- 
ter we  shall  set  down  with  all  possible  emphasis 
at  the  start:  ''But  thou,  0  Achilles,  subdue  thy 
mighty  spirit,  for  it  beseems  thee  not  to  own  a  piti- 
less heart"  (IX,  496).  Such  is  the  fervent 
adjuration  of  the  Hero's  soulful  teacher  to  the 
wrathful  inexorable  pupil,  that  the  latter  begin  his 
heroic  self-conquest,  far  more  difficult  to  him  than 
any  external  battle  before  Troy.  But  the  lofty- 
visioned  pedagogue  carries  his  lesson  yet  higher, 
indeed  up  to  the  very  highest  rule  of  the  Universe, 
proclaiming:  "For  also  Gods  are  placable  {strep- 
toi,  turnable,  exorable)  though  far  above  us  in 
might  and  excellence."  Homer's  noblest  thought 
is  this,  we  have  often  to  repeat,  voiced  by  that  old 
Greek  tutor,  since  he  here  rises  to  his  sublimest 


CXii  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

height  in  ethicising  even  his  Olympian  Gods,  who 
are  often  in  sore  need  of  such  a  sublimation.  And 
it  may  also  be  now  foresaid  that  the  Hero  Achilles 
after  the  bitterest  experiences  of  his  life  will  finally 
attain  to  this  loftiest  precept  of  his  teacher,  Phoe- 
nix, realizing  it  in  word  and  deed  at  his  last  ap- 
pearance in  the  Iliad  (Book  XXIV,  670). 

Homer  undoubtedly  speaks  in  and  through  all 
the  characters  of  his  two  poems,  though  with  dif- 
ferent degrees  of  intimacy.  Now  if  I  were  asked 
to  select  the  one  person  in  his  works  who  most 
directly  represents  the  poet  at  his  highest,  I  would 
choose  this  Phoenix,  the  teacher  of  Achilles,  to 
whom  is  given  such  a  long  and  important  speech  in 
the  embassy  which  seeks  to  reconcile  the  angry  hero 
(See  Iliad  IX).  There  is  a  peculiar  note  of  sym- 
pathy, of  immediate  personal  feeling  that  makes 
the  responsive  reader  cry  out :  *  *  There !  that  must 
be  Homer's  own  voice  throbbing  into  his  very 
words ! ' ' 

Toward  his  former  pupil  Achilles,  we  hear  Phoe- 
nix uttering  the  tenderest,  even  tearful  exhorta- 
tions which  almost  tremble  in  their  warmth.  Still 
the  devoted  preceptor  was  now  a  warrior  with  his 
own  independent  command,  being  the  captain  of 
the  Dolopians,  a  small  tribe  of  Thessaly.  Hence 
he  was  not  in  the  same  tent  with  Achilles  and 
Patroclus,  nor  was  he  one  of  the  great  Greek  lead- 
ers, but  in  the  present  crisis  the  wise  Nestor  chose 
him  as  the  safest  man  to  conduct  the  somewhat 
anxious  embassadors  into  the  presence  of  the  wrath- 


THE  HERO'S  TEACHER— PHOENIX         cxiii 

ful  Hero.  But  when  Achilles  with  passionate  scorn 
had  rejected  the  offer  of  conciliation,  Phoenix, 
*' bursting  into  tears"  began  his  speech,  whose 
central  theme  is  forgiveness  of  wrong,  **for  the 
Gods  are  placable." 

The  first  appeal  of  Phoenix  is  to  the  personal  tie 
between  himself,  and  pupil.  '  For  if  the  latter  quits 
in  anger  the  Greek  host  and  goes  home,  as  he 
threatens,  Phoenix  laments,  *'how  I  would  be  left 
alone  here  away  from  thee!  For  to  me  did  thy 
aged  father,  the  knight  Peleus,  send  thee  when  a 
mere  boy,  unskilled  of  war  and  speech,  whereby 
men  become  distinguished.  Therefore  he  advanced 
me  to  be  thy  teacher  in  these  things,  namely  that 
thou  become  a  spokesman  of  words  and  a  doer  of 
deeds."  Such  then  was  the  call  of  Phoenix,  the 
pedagogue  of  the  Hero  Achilles  in  the  Thessalian 
land,  whence  he  went  to  the  Trojan  war  along  with 
his  soldier-pupil  who,  in  the  course  of  the  nine 
years'  fighting,  has  far  outstripped  his  heroic  ri- 
vals, and  risen  to  be  the  Hero  of  all  Hellas. 

Well  may  that  old  Greek  pedagogue  (a  true 
paidagogos)  feel  pride  in  his  work,  and  take  no 
small  credit  to  himself  for  the  success  of  his  train- 
ing. So  he  exclaims:  ''I  made  thee  what  thou 
art,  0  Achilles  like  to  the  Gods,  and  loved  thee 
from  my  heart,  since  thou  wouldst  not  go  to  the 
feast  with  any  other  person  nor  take  food  in  the 
hall  till  I  had  set  thee  on  my  knees,  and,  cutting 
a  slice  of  food  beforehand  and  holding  the  wine  cup 
to  thy  lips,  I  had  stilled  thy  hunger  and  thirst." 


Cxiv  HOMER'S  LIFE-UNES 

Drawn  from  actual  life  is  such  a  picture  as  well  as 
what  follows :  ' '  Often  didst  thou  stain  the  doublet 
on  my  breast,  in  thy  childish  wantonness  spirting 
the  wine  over  me. ' '  Truly  not  an  easy  lad  to  train 
was  that  defiantly  capricious  urchin  Achilles,  who 
just  now  is  giving  a  grown-up  sample  of  his  heroic 
obstinacy.  But  the  pathetic  tutor  again  tells  of 
himself:  ''Thus  I  suffered  much  for  thee,  and 
endured  many  toils,  being  mindful  that  the  Gods 
had  not  granted  me  any  offspring ;  but  thee  I  raised 
as  my  own  son,  that  thou  mightest  sometime  shield 
me  from  an  unseemly  death ' ',  which  now  threatens 
me  with  all  of  the  Greeks  through  thy  wrath. 

Intimate  personal  experience  is  what  breathes 
everywhere  through  these  words  and  gives  to  them 
their  soulful  sympathy.  We  have  to  feel  that 
Phoenix  here  voices  Homer  himself,  who  reveals  the 
deeply  emotional  side  of  his  genius,  in  strongest  con- 
trast to  the  Titanic  outbreaks  of  the  previous  Book 
{Iliad  VIII)  which  describes  the  all-overwhelming 
mightiness  of  Olympian  Zeus.  The  keynote  of  ten- 
der affection  now  intones  the  poem.  But  this  is  not 
all;  Phoenix  is  Homer  as  the  teacher,  prehistoric 
indeed,  and  long  antecedent  to  text-book  and  school- 
house,  still  a  genuine  teacher  instilling  instruction 
through  his  word  and  deed,  giving  lessons  in  pres- 
ent conduct  and  also  in  knowledge  of  the  past,  as 
handed  down  by  the  people 's  own  message  of  folk- 
lore and  song. 

We  find  that  the  old  teacher  employed  two  meth- 
ods of  instruction — example  and  precept.    By  per- 


THE  HERO'S  TEACHER— PHOENIX  CXV 

sonal  conduct  he  was  to  be  all  what  he  taught;  so 
it  comes  that  Phoenix  here  first  recounts  his  own 
deed  of  conciliation.  Then  he  elevates  such  action 
into  the  realm  of  the  divine  order,  telling  with 
fullness  and  emphasis  that  t}ie  Gods  are  placable. 
Finally  he  interprets  an  old  mythical  deed  to  en- 
force his  instruction. 

As  this  is  the  best  example  of  the  school  of  Ho- 
mer in  Homer,  with  school-master  and  course  of 
study  quite  fully  presented,  we  may  expand  it  a 
little. 

I.  To  the  young  Achilles  in  wrath,  Phoenix 
now  narrates  a  chapter  taken  from  his  own  youth- 
ful experience,  whereby  he  intimates  what  his  pupil 
ought  to  do  in  the  same  spirit.  For  he  took  the 
part  of  his  wronged  mother  against  his  wronging 
father,  who  thereupon  cursed  him,  but  instead  of 
yielding  to  wrath  and  avenging  wrong,  he  quit  his 
home  and  realm,  becoming  an  outcast  wanderer. 
He  would  suffer  evil  rather  than  do  it,  especially  to 
his  parent.  In  this  state  he  came  to  Peleus  the 
father  of  Achilles. 

Thus  Phoenix  had  done  in  substance  what  he  now 
begged  Achilles  to  do,  illustrating  his  doctrine  by 
his  own  example,  and  that  early  act  of  forgiveness 
was  what  had  made  him  the  teacher  and  companion 
of  Achilles. 

II.  Next  let  us  mark  how  Phoenix  appeals  to 
the  highest  example,  namely  the  Gods,  who  are 
placable,  being  appeased  by  the  culprit's  prayers 
and  offerings.     So  be  thou  too,  0  Achilles,  ap- 


Cxvi  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

peased  by  these  propitiatory  presents  from  thy  high 
injurer,  the  royal  transgressor  against  thee,  King 
Agamemnon — be  like  the  Gods,  placable. 

Such  is  the  religious  instruction  given  by  this 
school  of  Homer  in  which  the  teacher  tells  the  of- 
fending pupil  to  quit  his  offence,  and  to  assimilate 
himself  to  Deity.  At  this  point  we  touch  the  loft- 
iest peak  of  Homer's  poetry,  and  hear  his  central 
insight,  that  which  not  only  illustrates  but  unifies 
his  entire  Iliad.  For  this  poem  we  find  now  to  be 
based  not  upon  Wrath  alone,  for  here  is  also  Recon- 
ciliation as  the  final  uppermost  achievement.  And 
the  Homeric  world-order  is  seen  to  do  its  supreme 
work  through  forgiveness.  Really  Phoenix  the 
teacher  voices  the  poet  at  his  grandest  climacteric. 

III.  The  third  lesson  which  the  teacher  Phoenix 
imparts  to  his  pupil  Achilles  in  the  present  inter- 
view, is  a  fable  taken  from  the  aforetime,  which 
illustrates  the  present  situation,  namely  the  story 
of  the  angry  Meleager.  Here  we  behold  Homer 
using  the  Mythus  for  education  in  right  conduct, 
moralizing,  so  to  speak,  the  old  fables  of  the  people. 
He  probably  adjusts  the  events  of  the  tale  to  his 
present  purpose.  Thus  we  are  reminded  of  the 
use  of  Greek  legends  in  Plato  and  the  philosophers. 
Homer  seems  here  not  only  mythical,  but  para- 
mythical,  reconstructing  and  re-telling  the  Mythus 
with  a  new  intention  and  application  of  his  own. 

Such  are  the  three  lessons  which  we  may  over- 
hear Phoenix  (or  Homer)  giving  in  his  school  to 
his  pupil,  who  certainly  needs  them.     So  we  are 


THE  HERO'S  TEACHER— PHOENIX        cxvii 

allowed  to  be  present  at  one  session,  and  only  one, 
of  the  old  Homeric  instructor.  All  three  lessons 
have  a  single  object,  a  single  content:  the  need  of 
conciliation,  of  pardon,  and  remission  of  wrath — 
revenge  must  be  given  up,  though  this  be  the  hard- 
est problem  of  the  individual  and  of  the  age,  espe- 
cially of  that  hot-tempered  heroic  age.  From  this 
point  of  view  we  may  acclaim  Homer  to  be  one  of 
the  world's  great  teachers,  opening  his  school  with 
the  dawn  of  civilization,  and  giving  his  lesson  of 
placability,  more  needed  to-day  in  Greece  and  in 
Europe  than  at  any  previous  time  of  savagery. 

Thus  concludes  the  part  of  Phoenix,  the  tutor  of 
Achilles,  who  utters  the  most  exalted  standpoint  in 
the  whole  Iliad.  He  speaks  only  once,  making  the 
one  very  lengthy  and  significant  harangue,  quite 
different  in  character  and  style  from  any  other 
speech  in  the  poem.  And  he  stands  out  markedly 
individualized  from  any  other  speaker ;  he  is  essen- 
tially the  theoretical  man,  the  thinker,  amid  that 
boiling  mass  of  active  Greek  fighters,  though  he  too 
is  ''captain  of  the  Dolopians. "  He  may  be  called 
the  philosopher  of  that  Greek  army,  giving  in  his 
talk  the  philosophy  of  the  poem,  its  central  creative 
idea  in  its  movement  from  heroic  Wrath  to  more 
heroic  Reconciliation,  which  is  in  the  end  to  be 
fully  realized  by  and  in  the  Hero. 

Moreover  we  behold  in  this  case  as  in  so  many 
others,  that  Homer  is  the  prophet  of  the  coming 
Greek  historic  age  with  its  evolved  art,  poetry,  and 
also  philosophy.    His  Phoenix  in  seeking  to  make 


CXviii  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

the  Greek  Gods  ethical,  tackled  the  same  problem 
which  gave  so  much  trouble  to  Xenophanes,  Plato 
and  the  later  Greek  philosophers  of  historic  Greece. 
Still  Homer's  Pantheon  as  revealed  in  his  two 
poems  is  in  certain  respects  his  grandest  creative 
deed,  to  which  must  be  assigned  a  cardinal  position 
in  his  total  achievement.  Next  then  we  shall  take 
a  little  journey  to  his  Olympus  and  commune  with 
its  divine  inhabitants — in  a  duly  appreciative,  if 
not  quite  worshipful  mood. 

IV. 

Homer's  Religiosity. 

When  Homer  spake  through  Phoenix,  his  su- 
preme apostle,  he  gave  utterance  to  what  is  most 
excellent  in  the  Greek  religion,  if  not  in  all  re- 
ligion. It  is  true  that  his  formal  organisation  of 
divinity  is  not  yours,  nor  mine,  nor  anybody's  to- 
day, probably;  we  cannot  now  bend  the  knee  or 
chant  an  orison  to  Olympian  Zeus.  Still  we  are  to 
see  that  Homer  at  his  best  could  and  did  rise 
through  his  theological  scaffolding,  into  the  realm 
of  what  may  be  called  universal  religion,  whereof 
Phoenix  became  the  voice  in  his  poem.  Religiosity 
we  can  name  this  strain  pervading  the  whole  per- 
sonality and  work  of  the  poet. 

We  must,  however,  stress  the  fact  now  that  Ho- 
mer is  by  no  means  always  perched  upon  this 
highest  height  of  his  religiosity — perhaps  he  attains 


HOMER'S  RELIGIOSITY  CXix 

its  full  expression  in  doctrine  but  once,  and  but 
once  finally  in  the  deed.  Homer  has  his  lower  and 
lowest  stages,  out  of  which  he  is  to  unfold  to  his 
best.  The  poet  is,  therefore,  in  himself  a  growth, 
an  evolution,  especially  in  his  religious  conscious- 
ness, of  which  he  passes  through  several  discernible 
stages  already  in  his  Iliad. 

And  here  it  is  in  place  to  emphasize  that  this 
Iliad  of  Homer  is  quite  as  distinctively  a  religious 
poem  as  is  Dante's  Divine  Comedy.  Both  lake  their 
start  from  an  Upper  World  of  Divinity:  the  one 
from  the  Heathen  Olympus  and  the  other  from  the 
Christian  Heaven ;  both  continue  this  supernal  in- 
fluence upon  the  man  below  till  their  close.  Both 
poems  are,  accordingly,  in  their  deepest  purport 
constructions  of  the  Divine  Government  as  it  con- 
trols and  directs  our  terrestrial  life,  are  revelations 
of  the  ways  of  Providence  to  our  erring,  ignorant 
very  finite  humanity.  Thus  what  we  may  call  the 
original  divine  presupposition  of  both  poems  is 
quite  the  same,  though  their  systems  of  faith  in 
ritual,  in  organisation,  and  often  in  ethical  appeal 
be  very  different. 

Homer  has,  therefore,  primarily  and  fundament- 
ally this  ultimate  God-consciousness,  which  drives 
his  genius  to  its  grand  poetic  creation,  and  which 
expresses  itself  most  immediately  and  combatively 
in  his  Iliad,  but  serener  and  deeper  in  his  Odyssey. 
We  have  to  think  that  Homer  made  for  his  people 
a  more  independent  and  original  Bible  than  did  or 
could  Dante,  who  had  to  lean  upon  the  Hebrew 


cxx  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

Scripture  for  the  transmitted  religious  substructure 
of  his  poem.  But  Homer  built  his  own  temple  of 
Divinity,  undoubtedly  out  of  transmitted  unorgan- 
ized materials,  and  his  constructive  genius  has 
made  his  two  poems  supremely  architectonic,  in 
spite  of  modern  disintegrating  criticism.  Still  both- 
Homer  and  Dante  take  as  their  ultimate  postulate 
God  and  His  World-Order,  which  they  are  to  reveal 
unto  man. 

Now  this  universal  element  in  Homer's  particular 
religion  we  shall  seek  to  trace  and  to  express,  giv- 
ing to  it  a  name  of  its  own.  Religiosity.  It  is  that 
which  he  has  in  common  with  Dante  and  all  true 
religionists  of  everywhere  and  of  everywhen.  Old 
Herodotus  was  largely  right  in  thinking  that  Ho- 
mer made  the  Greek  Theogony,  that  is,  constructed 
or  rather  reconstructed  the  system  of  the  Olympian 
Gods,  and  transmitted  it  through  his  poem  as  the 
established  Pantheon  of  Hellas. 

The  poet,  however,  had  to  evolve  in  himself  this 
stage  of  Religiosity,  hence  we  seek  to  glinipse  some 
trace  of  its  presence  as  it  arose  along  his  ever-un- 
folding life-line.  A  few  fleeting  intimations  we 
have  lain  in  wait  for,  when  he  would  seem  to  be 
more  personal  about  himself.  Hence  we  have 
reached  the  opinion  that  the  young  Homer,  in  his 
early  Thessalian  days,  with  his  Olympian  environ- 
ment of  nature,  must  have  gone  through  a  very 
deep-searching  religious  experience,  for  the  vestiges 
of  it  are  mightily  stamped  upon  certain  utterances 
of  his  Iliad.    So  it  results  that  the  general  charac- 


HOMER'S  RELIGIOSITY  cxxi 

ter  of  this  cardinal,  life-determining  experience  can 
be  felt  and  consciously  assimilated  by  the  con- 
genial reader.  Here  at  the  start  it  may  be  definitely 
stated  thus:  the  poet's  strong  and  at  times  de- 
cidedly polemical  affirmation  of  the  divine  su- 
premacy of  Zeus  over  the  other  Greek  Gods,  that  is, 
his  monotheistic  jurisdiction.  These  Olympian  un- 
derlings repeatedly  challenge  his  sovereignty,  and 
even  conspire  secretly  against  him  as  a  recent 
usurper.  Evidently  the  unity  of  the  Hellenic  God- 
world  was  still  a  somewhat  unsettled  problem  in  the 
time  of  Homer,  who  recurs  to  it  again  and  again, 
and  makes  his  Zeus  re-assert  it  upon  occasion  with 
an  actual  display  and  threat  of  physical  violence 
against  his  opponents  on  Olympus.  From  the  first 
book  of  the  Iliad  to  its  last  run  these  vehement  men- 
aces of  the  supreme  God  launched  at  his  foes  be- 
longing to  his  own  Olympian  household.  And  in 
general  his  minatory  words  are  the  strongest  in 
the  poem,  verily  spoken  thunderbolts,  which  he 
alone  can  forge  in  his  Godhood's  smithy  and  hurl 
against  the  offender.  Very  significant  is  it  that  the 
final  appeal  of  all  conflicts,  human  and  divine,  Tro- 
jan and  Olympian,  is  carried  up  to  the  judgment 
seat  of  Zeus  (see  especially  Book  V  of  the  Iliad). 

Evidently  the  poet  herein  shows  himself  an  ar- 
dent, and  very  determined  supporter,  yea  pro- 
tagonist of  an  unitary  monotheism,  against  the 
prevalent  separative,  discordant,  combative  poly- 
theism of  the  ordinary  Greek  religious  conscious- 
ness.   With  true  instinct  he  feels  and  in  his  imag- 


Cxxii  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

inative  way  declares  that  there  is  one  Snpreme 
Father,  one  sovereign  principle  of  the  Universe. 
At  the  same  time  he  does  not  propose  to  destroy 
these  many  recalcitrant  lesser  divinities,  but  he 
will  adopt  them  into  his  family,  domesticate  them 
and  harmonize  their  strifes  as  far  as  possible.  It 
is,  therefore,  a  great  mistake  to  deem  Homer  a  pure 
polytheist ;  the  whole  underlying  trend  of  the  Iliad 
is  monotheistic,  in  the  sense  of  acclaiming  one 
overruling  Godhood.  It  is  true  that  this  Homeric 
is  not  our  familiar  Mosaic  monotheism,  which  com- 
mands ' '  thou  shalt  have  no  other  Gods  before  me, ' ' 
and  then  obliterates  all  divine  association,  **for  I 
the  Lord  thy  God  am  a  jealous  God."  Thus  the 
Greek  and  the  Oriental  are  antagonistic  primarily 
in  their  God-consciousness,  even  when  both  may  be 
deemed  monotheists. 

It  is  not  too  much  to  say,  then,  that  the  Iliad, 
despite  its  divine  feuds  above  and  bloody  warfare 
below,  is  a  great  religious  document  for  its  people, 
and  indeed  for  the  race,  when  we  reach  down  and 
commune  with  its  deepest  spirit.  We  may  well  con- 
ceive that  before  Homer's  time  all  Hellas  was  split 
to  fragments  in  its  multifarious  worship,  each  lo- 
cality in  fact  tended  to  have  its  own  separate  deity 
different  from  and  often  hostile  to  the  rest.  Thus 
entire  Greece  became  a  vast  reservoir  of  discordant 
mutually  combating  Nature-Gods,  Giants,  Titans, 
Chimeras  dire,  whom  Zeus  has  had  to  put  down  and 
to  whelm  into  gloomy  Tartarus.  Still  these  hoary 
monstrous,  pre-Olympian  shapes  rise  up  now  and 


HOMER'S  RELIGIOSITY  cxxiii 

then  into  the  stream  of  the  Iliad,  and  show  them- 
selves in  contrast  to  the  present  established  Ho- 
meric order  with  its  beautiful  humanized  forms  of 
Olympian  Godhood.  We  hear  of  portentous 
Briareus  the  hundred  handed,  once  summoned  to 
assist  Zeus  from  the  dark  Underworld  where  also 
dwell  the  uncanny  Erinnyes  ready  to  be  called 
above  in  an  emergency,  and  the  snaky-tressed  Gor- 
gon whose  sight  turns  the  looker  to  stone,  and  other 
dungeoned  horribilities.  Ancient  Hesiod  some  time 
after  Homer,  in  a  desperate  fit  of  literary  pes- 
simism, will  summon  these  monsters  out  of  chaos 
again,  and  chant  them  into  his  unmelodious  hexa- 
metral  writ.  But  Olympian  Homer  keeps  them 
submerged  in  his  sunless  Netherdom,  from  which 
however,  he  lets  them  peep  forth  once  in  a  while 
with  a  dreadful  eye-shot  at  his  startled  reader. 

Perhaps  it  will  sound  strange  to  call  Homer  a 
great  religious  reformer  of  his  people ;  but  such  he 
is  and  has  to  be  in  the  deepest  strain  of  his  being. 
As  before  remarked,  the  strongest  stress  of  his 
spirit  he  puts  upon  the  unification  of  the  Greek 
Pantheon,  which  has  hitherto  been  a  scattered, 
contradictory,  self-undoing  Polytheon.  Homer  has 
felt  the  supreme  need  of  the  one  God  in  himself 
and  also  in  his  folk,  as  well  as  in  his  world-order. 
This  is  his  deep  religious  experience,  and  it  has  also 
become  a  conviction  which  can  be  felt  pulsing 
through  many  a  scene  of  both  his  poems.  No  sym- 
pathetic reader  will  ever  forget  that  warm  worship- 
ful line  of  the  Odyssey;    **A11  men  have  need  of 


CXxiv  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

God" — the  original  surprisingly  says  God  in  the 
singular,  not  Gods  polj^heistically. 

Thus  we  seek  to  fetch  to  the  fore  in  our  task 
this  much  neglected  strand  of  Homeric  interpreta- 
tion, which  we  call  the  poet's  Religiosity,  stressing 
it  as  a  salient  fact  of  his  spirit's  biography.  In 
fact  it  may  be  said  that  there  is  no  poetry  in  litera- 
ture more  directly  and  spontaneously  religious 
than  that  of  Homer.  Usually  the  complaint  is 
heard  that  he  makes  the  Gods  interfere  too  easily 
and  frequently  in  human  affairs  on  the  plains  of 
Troy.  Of  course  we  cannot  adopt  to-day  Homer's 
particular  form  of  faith:  we  cannot  givo  a  sacri- 
fice to  Athena,  or  breathe  a  supplication  to  Apollo, 
or  offer  a  hecatomb  to  Zeus.  Homer's  ritual  is 
gone,  being  a  finite  matter  anyhow,  but  Homer's 
religiosity  is  or  ought  to  be  with  us  still,  being  his 
immortal  portion  and  eternal  in  itself.  The  parent 
to-day  will  hardly  invoke  **Zeus  and  all  the  Gods'* 
in  fervent  petition  for  his  son,  as  Hector  did  for 
his  infant  boy  Astyanax;  but  the  modern  father 
cannot  help  echoing  here  and  now  the  spirit  of 
that  old  Hero  praying  on  the  walls  of  Troy :  **May 
it  be  said  of  this  son  of  mine  that  he  is  a  much 
better  man  than  his  father.'* 

Thus  Homer  can  be  often  felt  rising  out  of  the 
formulas,  rites,  and  litanies  of  his  special  religious 
service  into  the  realm  of  universal  religion,  good  for 
all  times  and  places  and  peoples.  We  hold  that 
just  this  has  been  one  of  the  chief  preservatives  of 
Homer's  poetry  for  thirty  centuries,  and  one  of 


HOMER'S  ZEUS 


cxxv 


the  world's  supreme  trainers  to  the  greatness  and 
lastingness  of  Greek  spirit.  In  contrast  with  his 
formal  religion,  which  has  long  since  vanished,  we 
here  emphasize  this  universal  element  ever  peering 
forth  out  of  his  particular  ceremonial  as  his  Re- 
ligiosity. 

V. 
Homer's  Zeus. 

If  Homer,  then,  was  essentially  the  maker  and 
the  organizer  of  the  Greek  Olympian  realm  of  the 
Gods,  its  sovereign  Zeus  may  well  be  acclaimed  his 
greatest  impersonation.  For  the  poet  in  such  a 
creative  act  must  summon  before  himself  the  gov- 
erning power  of  the  Universe,  embody  it  in  shape 
and  set  it  to  functioning,  at  least  ideally,  in  his 
poem.  The  height  of  all  human  originality  must 
be  that  which  can  adequately  re-originato  man's 
own  originator  and  his  world's,  in  forms  that 
endure. 

Now  such  a  divine  creation  (or  re-creation)  must 
have  been  the  fundamental  problem  of  the  time  and 
people,  which  the  poet  had  to  grapple  with  and  to 
express  for  his  age's  uplift  and  adoration.  As  the 
two  grandest  utterances  of  the  religious  spirit  of 
the  Earth's  two  leading  cultural  races,  Aryan  and 
Semitic,  it  is  possible  to  bring  together  in  our  con- 
templation the  Greek  Zeus  and  the  Hebrew  Jahveh. 
(See  the  conceived  visit  of  David  the  Psalmist  of 
Israel  with  Homer  in  Chios — ^which  visit  is  de- 
scribed on  page  175  of  this  book.) 


CXXvi  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

Zeus  is  distinctly  represented  by  Homer  as  the 
all-determining  God  over  both  contestants,  the 
Greeks  and  the  Trojans;  he  is  shown  supporting 
one  side  or  the  other  according  as  its  action  agree^s 
with  his  conception  of  eternal  right.  So  the  Ho- 
meric Zeus,  in  his  repeated  changes  of  favor  from 
Greek  to  Trojan  and  back  again,  remains  ethically 
consistent  with  himself,  as  far  as  the  war  is  con- 
cerned. Thus  the  poet  portrays  him  as  the  pre- 
siding Genius  of  History  supereminent  above  both 
the  terrestrial  antagonists  down  below  on  the  plains 
of  Troy,  and  thus  bringing  forth  through  them  his 
own  divine  end.  Olympian  Zeus  in  the  Iliad  is  the 
poet 's  apotheosis  of  the  World-Spirit. 

Out  of  the  forty-eight  Books  which  make  up  the 
Iliad  and  the  Odyssey,  according  to  the  division  of 
them  ascribed  usually  to  the  old  Alexandrian  gram- 
marian Zenodotus,  there  is  one  Book  which  is  es- 
pecially devoted  to  the  assertion  and  proof  of  the 
divine  sovereignty  of  Zeus.  This  is  the  somewhat 
neglected  and  relatively  unappreciated  Book 
Eighth  of  the  Iliad.  It  expresses  in  its  imagina- 
tive way,  and  affirms  with  all  the  emphasis  of 
Heaven's  thunder  and  lightning,  the  divine  su- 
premacy of  the  Olympian  Father  of  Gods  and  Men. 
Thus  we  may  well  deem  it  Homer's  declaration  of 
the  prime  article  of  his  religious  faith ;  his  creed 
it  might  be  technically  called,  being  formulated  not 
in  abstract  dogma,  but  fulmined  'fortK  in  colossal 
bursts  of  poetry,  responsive  to  the  magnitude  of 
the  thought  and  its  omnipotent  thinker,  as  well  as 


HOMER'8  ZEU8  cxxvii 

to  the  Olympian  setting  of  its  scenery.  The  whole 
is  told  with  a  sublimity  which  shows  the  poet  in 
his  loftiest  mood,  world-storming  in  his  massive 
energy  of  expression.  Homer,  then,  we  may 
hearken  here  voicing  his  earlier  mountainous  con- 
ception of  the  one  over-ruling,  world-governing 
Personality. 

Let  us  first  feel  the  might  of  the  preluding  words. 
The  Gods  are  met  on  OljTnpus  in  council ;  there  is 
a  deep- bitter  scission  between  them  on  the  question 
of  helping  Troy.  Zeus  presides,  and  in  words 
which  drop  from  his  mouth  with  the  force  of  a 
sledge-stroke,  he  lays  down  the  law  to  all  the  dif- 
ferent deities  there  assembled,  male  and  female. 
''None  of  you  are  to  give  divine  aid  to  Greek  or 
Trojan  in  the  forthcoming  battle;  otherwise  the 
aggressor  will  be  scourged  disgracefully  back  to 
Olympus",  or  whelmed  to  yet  greater  punishment: 
"I  having  seized  him  shall  hurl  him  down  into 
Tartarus",  the  dark  abode  of  old  divine  disobedi- 
ence. Zeus  even  challenges  them  to  a  test  of  his 
strength:  **Come,  ye  Gods,  make  trial  of  me,  all 
of  you"  that  you  may  find  out  ''how  much  I  am 
above  Gods  and  above  men."  Very  superlative 
does  all  this  sound;  no  wonder  that  they  are  said 
to  have  shrunk  back  in  silence,  marveling  at  the 
word,  "for  he  spoke  very  mightily",  uprisen  with 
a  mountainous  majesty. 

Next  the  poet  brings  before  us  the  world-govern- 
ing Zeus  asserting  his  power  and  sovereignty  over 
mortals.    The  supreme  God  now  speeds  in  his  char- 


exxviii  HOMER'8  life-lines 

iot  from  Olympus  over  the  sea  to  Mount  Ida  where, 
perched  on  the  top  of  Gargaros  he  can  behold  the 
battle  below  on  the  Trojan  plain,  through  which 
contest  he  is  to  bring  defeat  to  the  Greeks  till  they 
become  reconciled  with  their  estranged  hero  Achil- 
les. And  the  God  makes  known  his  awful  presence 
and  his  intention  in  this  way;  ''He  thundered 
mightily  from  Ida,  and  hurled  his  blazing  flash 
amid  the  Achaean  host,  who  seeing  it  startled,  and 
pale-green  terror  seized  them  all."  Such  is  the 
God's  first  announcement  of  himself  and  his  warn- 
ing ;  wise  old  Nestor  sees  the  sign  and  proclaims  its 
meaning  to  the  Greek  fellow-soldier  at  his  side: 
"Dost  thou  not  recognize  that  help  no  longer  comes 
from  Zeus?  Now  doth  he,  the  son  of  Cronus, 
vouchsafe  victory  to  Hector;  no  man,  however 
great,  can  thwart  the  will  of  Zeus ;  verily  the  Deity 
is  much  the  mightier. ' ' 

Thus  God  and  Man,  above  on  Olympus  and  be- 
low on  Earth,  have  proclaimed  with  awe  Zeus  as 
the  all-powerful  sovereign  both  of  the  God-world 
and  of  the  Man-world.  But  the  poet  is  aware  that 
this  overwhelming  display  of  purely  external  might 
is  not  the  whole,  or  perhaps  not  the  best  of  his  su- 
preme Divinity.  Accordingly  he  turns  inward  and 
gives  us  a  glimpse  into  the  soul  of  Zeus  during  the 
present  Olympian  struggle,  showing  us  what  is  the 
spiritual  condition  of  the  uppermost  God  himself 
in  such  a  strife.  So  we  interpret  the  essential 
meaning  of  the  much-discussed  image  of  the  golden 
balance  or  pair  of  scales  which  Zeus  holds  aloft, 


HOMER'S  ZEUS  CXxix 

and  in  which  he  weighs  the  destinies  of  the  two 
wavering  sides,  ''the  horse-taming  Trojans  and  the 
bronze-mailed  Achaeans. "  That  is,  the  supreme 
Power  of  the  Universe  is  represented  as  deliberat- 
ing (word  from  libra,  a  pair  of  scales)  upon  the 
two  grand  colliding  principles  there  befoie  him  on 
the  plains  of  Troy.  And  well  he  may  lihrate  in- 
ternally, for  in  his  will  are  combating  two  contra- 
dictory functions.  Shall  it  be  victory  for  the  Tro- 
jans to-day,  and  then  victory  for  the  Greeks  to- 
morrow? But  behold!  the  God  breaks  soon  his 
inner  equilibrium,  and  passes  from  deliberation  to 
resolution:  Troy's  hero  Hector  is  to  conquer  now, 
in  accord  with  the  highest  God's  Olympian  prom- 
ise to  Thetis,  mother  of  the  wronged  Achilles.  But 
hereafter  the  triumphant  turn  of  the  Greeks  will 
come,  when  they  have  endured  their  spirit-testing 
discipline  of  defeat. 

Colossal  and  far-suggesting  is  this  image  of  di- 
vine deliberation  at  a  pivotal  turn  in  the  grand 
enterprise  of  Hellas.  The  stupendous  picture  of 
Zeus  holding  up  in  heaven  his  golden  balance  and 
weighing  the  cardinal  event  of  the  age  or  of  the 
ages,  has  captured  the  imagination  of  the  vast  army 
of  readers  since  the  poet  first  dashed  it  off  with 
such  vividness  and  soul-stretching  significance. 
What  if  victorious  Hector  had  taken  the  new  wall, 
pushed  the  cowed  Greeks  into  their  ships,  and 
driven  them  to  retreat  whipped  homeward  across 
the  sea?  Would  there  have  been  any  Marathon, 
any  Periclean  Athens,  indeed  any  Europe  except 


CXXX  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

as  a  spiritual  appendix  to  the  Orient,  which  it  is 
still  on  certain  lines,  especially  in  the  matter  of 
religion?  So  we  dare  think  that  the  best  reader 
of  Homer  will  rise  to  the  conception  of  the  poet 
here  forefeeling  and  foreshadowing  in  little  Troy  a 
great,  perchance  the  greatest  event  of  the  World's 
History,  which  is  now  at  one  of  its  decisive  nodes, 
when  Providence  sits  in  judgment  and  renders  the 
decision.  Such  we  may  construe,  at  its  present  con- 
juncture, the  sovereignty  of  Zeus  in  its  farthest 
outreach  into  futurity. 

Thus  on  the  Olympian  height  Zeus  in  his  su- 
premacy is  represented  as  weighing  the  two  oppos- 
ing Fates  of  the  time's  grand  issue,  or,  as  we 
construe  them,  the  two  colliding  Folk-souls,  Trojan 
and  Greek,  the  one  belonging  more  to  the  East,  the 
other  more  to  the  West.  The  act  calls  up  yet 
another  question  of  prime  importance  in  the  study 
of  Homer,  which  we  may  put  briefly  in  this  fash- 
ion :  Is  Zeus  above  Fate  or  Fate  above  Zeus,  in  the 
Homeric  conception?  The  problem  often  recurs, 
and  undoubtedly  is  one  with  which  the  poet  had 
some  of  his  deepest  and  hardest  spiritual  wrestles. 
And  the  antinomy  is  still  alive  to-day,  being  often 
named  now  the  fight  between  the  Necessitarians  and 
the  Libertarians.  In  the  present  case  Zeus  evidently 
picks  up  the  two  Fates  somewhence,  weighs  them, 
and  then  decides,  which  decision,  however,  is  one 
that  he  has  taken  already,  for  the  poet  has  told 
us  so  in  the  First  Book  of  the  Iliad.  But  here  he 
re-affirms  his  resolution  before  the  Council  of  all 


HOMER'S  ZEUS  CXXXi 

the  Gods,  who  are  now  to  hear  this  grandest  asser- 
tion of  his  sovereignty,  along  with  the  penalty  for 
disobedience. 

It  is  true  that  Homer,  in  some  passages  of  his 
poems,  does  not  proclaim  so  distinctly  the  suprem- 
acy of  his  supreme  God  over  Fate.  It  would  almost 
seem  as  if  the  poet  at  times  had  his  doubts  about 
the  matter.  Hence  some  expositors,  possibly  of  an 
original  Calvinistic  bent,  have  sought  to  show  that 
Homer  believed  even  in  the  divinity  of  predestina- 
tion, that  he  was  indeed  a  good  old-school  Presbyte- 
rian (once  I  heard  these  very  words  applied  to  the 
hoary  heathen  bard  in  a  Homer  class  which  I  was 
teaching).  Evidently  the  poet  does  not  and  cannot 
always  speak  at  his  topmost  power;  ancient  is  the 
word  that  the  good  Homer  nods  now  and  then ;  he 
relaxes,  turns  sleepy,  and  in  such  a  mood  suffers 
dark  impersonal  Fate  to  get  the  better  of  his  al- 
mighty personal  Zeus  and  of  himself.  Still  in  his 
highest  vision  Homer  reveals  not  a  Fate-governed 
but  a  Zeus-governed  world,  despite  his  temporary 
lapses.  At  his  best  he  is  and  sings  the  Fate-com- 
peller. 

Here  it  should  be  noted  that  antique  Greece,  in 
the  course  of  her  history,  will  gradually  droop  from 
this  exalted  standpoint  of  her  first  and  greatest 
poet.  The  Athenian  tragedians  on  the  whole  rep- 
resent the  free  Hellenic  Soul  as  tragic,  though  gen- 
erally after  an  heroic  struggle  with  its  fateful 
limits.  Aeschylus  in  his  Prometheus  gives  the  new 
Attic  version  of  the  old  Homeric  conflict  against 


CXXxii  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINE8 

Olympian  Zeus,  who  has  now  to  chain  his  Titanic 
opponent  to  Mount  Caucasus,  seemingly,  however, 
only  for  a  time.  Sophocles,  the  most  typical  tra- 
gedian of  autonomous  Hellas,  though  probably  not 
her  greatest,  portrays  two  profoundly  representa- 
tive characters  in  two  different  dramas  under  the 
single  name  of  Oedipus — ^the  one  desperately  fated, 
the  other  apparently  unfated.  But  when  Hellas 
had  lost  her  freedom,  being  enslaved  to  external 
powers,  first  to  Macedon  and  then  to  Rome,  she  felt 
in  the  deepest  pulse  of  her  being  that  not  only  she 
herself  but  that  her  Gods  were  tragic,  being  com- 
pletely overwhelmed  by  the  dark  ever-threatening 
Fate  which  Homer's  Zeus  had  also  known,  yet 
which  he  had  met  and  put  down  in  his  divine  su- 
premacy. This  tragedy  of  enslaved  Hellas  in  the 
grip  of  her  final  Fate  is  presented  with  all  its 
pathos  by  that  masterpiece  of  later  Greek  art,  the 
Laocoon  group  of  sculpture,  of  which  the  frantic 
face  of  fated  father  Laocoon  is  supposed  to  be 
modeled  after  the  serene  face  of  triumphant  Father 
Zeus  of  Phidias.  Thus  deeply  interwoven  through 
the  changeful  destinies  of  Grecian  history  for  a 
thousand  years  is  the  primordial  conflict  of  the 
Gods  on  Olympus,  as  here  set  forth  by  Homer. 

But  the  Olympian  struggle  of  the  Eighth  Book 
of  the  Iliad  is  not  yet  over.  Hera  (Juno)  wife  of 
Zeus,  the  bitter  one-sided  partisan  of  the  Greeks, 
intrigues  to  involve  Poseidon  **the  broad-bodied 
earth-shaking"  God,  in  a  contest  with  Zeus,  but 
he  warily  replies:    *'I  am  not  eager  to  seo  the  rest 


HOMER'S  ZEUS 


of  US  Olympians  in  a  fight  with  the  son  of  Cronus, 
for  he  is  far  mightier  than  all  of  us. ' '  Still  when 
the  Zeus-inspired  Hector  ' '  with  the  eyes  of  Gorgon 
or  man-devouring  Mars"  had  driven  the  fleeing 
Greeks  'through  the  palisades  and  over  the  foss" 
to  their  last  refuge,  Hera  again  sought  to  thwart 
the  will  of  her  omnipotent  spouse,  and  to  stay  the 
irresistible  fury  of  the  God-frenzied  Hector,  lest  the 
Greeks  perish  ''at  the  onrush  of  one  man."  So 
smite  the  thunder-bolted  words  of  the  poet  in  one 
of  his  most  fulminant  moods — Titanic  he  becomes 
in  the  hurry  and  might  of  his  utterance. 

**The  white-armed  Goddess  Hera",  now  thor- 
oughly concerned  for  the  safety  of  her  Greeks, 
starts  a  fresh  conspiracy  with  Athena  against  the 
dominance  of  Zeus.  A  very  full  and  glowing  pic- 
ture of  this  new  and  dangerously  domestic  complot 
of  the  two  Olympian  Goddesses  is  dashed  off  by  the 
poet  with  all  his  imaginative  swiftness  and  luxuri- 
ance of  lofty-worded  energy.  But  this  opposition 
to  the  will  of  Zeus  turns  out  like  the  others ;  at  the 
final  scene  Athena  droops  to  her  sulks  in  moody 
silence,  while  Hera  still  dares  bristle  up  in  petu- 
lant protest.  But  at  her  angry  husband's  ominous 
Olympian  intimation,  which  threatens  her  with  a 
journey  to  the  uttermost  bounds  of  earth  and  sea, 
where  sit  Cronus  and  lapetus,  hoary  primordial 
anarchists  beyond  the  rays  of  the  sun,  ''to  him  then 
she  made  no  reply. ' ' 

Thus  after  these  several  successive  attempts  to 
breach  the  supremacy  of  the  one  Olympian  God, 


cxxxiv  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

the  authority  of  Zeus  has  completely  triumphed. 
The  previous  recalcitrant  multiplicity  of  the  Greek 
Gods  is  brought  not  merely  to  silent  submission,  but 
to  an  organized  unity  which  we  may  deem  the 
grand  religious  reform  of  Homer,  who  also  writes 
their  Bible  for  his  Greek  people.  And  this  reform 
with  its  Bible  remains  the  permanent  fact  of  the 
Hellenic  God-consciousness,  till  it  vanishes  into 
Christendom.  So  we  designate  this  Eighth  Book 
of  the  Iliad  distinctively  as  Homer 's  Book  of  Zeus, 
whose  divine  sovereignty  he  here  celebrates  in  all 
the  grandiose  pomp  of  his  exalted  mountainous 
poetry.  Of  course  the  assertion  of  the  Olympian 
supremacy  of  Zeus  winds  through  and  unites  the 
whole  Iliad,  of  which  immediately  the  first  Book 
interlinks  through  Zeus  with  the  last,  both  Books 
introducing  him  as  the  sovereign  determiner  of  des- 
tinies divine  and  human,  which  are  set  forth  in 
the  whole  sweep  of  the  poem. 

Finally  we  wish  in  this  same  Olympian  record  to 
catch  some  glimpse  of  the  poet's  selfhood,  and  of 
the  present  stage  of  his  poetic  development.  The 
wrath  of  Zeus  against  the  rebellious  deities  may 
well  be  taken  to  reflect  Homer 's  fierce  conflict  with 
the  hostile  polytheism  of  his  time.  He  is  here  still 
in  his  earlier  Thessalian  period,  during  which  the 
landscape  of  Olympus  with  its  mountainous  imag- 
ery and  supereminent  God- world  is  stamped  upon 
his  brain-stretching  conception  and  sonorous  utter- 
ance. Hence  this  Eighth  Book  shows  itstlf  pecu- 
liarly Olympian  in  word  and  thought,  since  its 


HOMER'S  ZEUS  CXXXV 

content  is  the  poet 's  confession  of  faith  or  doctrinal 
creed  expressed  in  all  the  grandeur  of  his  sublime 
environment.  And  we  are  not  to  forget  that  this 
enormous  energy  of  feeling  and  expression  is 
called  forth  by  his  battle  with  the  transmitted  po- 
lytheism of  the  past.  Thus  Homer,  especially  the 
present  younger  Homer,  has  gone  through  in  his 
experience  his  own  desperate  fight  with  prescrip- 
tion ;  he,  like  so  many  junior  poets  after  him,  has 
had  his  primal  break  with  tradition,  his  negative 
controversial  spell,  out  of  which,  however,  he  is  to 
rise  into  his  higher  constructive  work. 

We  need  not  approve  of  everything  of  which 
Zeus  does  and  says  in  his  colossal  sense-life,  for  he 
is  divinely  passional  also;  still  the  conception  and 
fulfilment  of  his  universal  personality  make  him 
the  sublimest  creation  of  Homer.  For  us  he  re- 
mains to-day  the  most  poetic  presentment  of  the 
World-Spirit  in  all  Literature,  yea  the  truest  from 
certain  viewpoints.  In  our  American  Civil  War, 
and  even  in  the  recent  World  War,  did  not  the 
Providence  of  History  punish  (we  may  call  it)  with 
defeat  and  untold  calamity  his  people,  till  they 
were  made  ready  to  do  the  right  thing  through 
such  discipline,  and  thus  to  deserve  the  victory 
which  he  finally  gave  them?  Quite  in  the  same 
manner  we  behold  Zeus,  the  over-ruling  Hellenic 
God,  disciplining  in  the  Iliad  his  folk  at  Troy. 
Can  we  not  glimpse  from  his  book,  even  in  dreamy 
outline,  what  was  the  training  of  the  poet  for  such 
a  monumental  achievement? 


CXXXVi  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

VI. 

Homer  in  Smyrna. 

More  intimately  connected  with  Smyrna  is  Ho- 
mer than  with  any  other  Greek  locality.  Repeat- 
edly in  the  preceding  account  we  have  brought  to- 
gether the  poet  and  his  city — their  conjunction 
reaching  from  to-day  up  to  an  undated  antiquity. 
A  visit  to  Smyrna  at  the  present  time  is  for  the 
classical  enthusiast  a  visit  to  the  presence  of  Homer. 

The  composition  of  the  Iliad,  as  we  believe,  finds 
its  fittest  setting  in  and  around  Smyrna,  which  did 
not  exist  during  the  Trojan  War,  but  was  a  colony 
of  the  great  Greek  migration  to  the  Anatolian  coast 
after  the  fall  of  Troy.  Homer  is  conjectured  to 
have  been  one  of  these  migrants  from  Northern 
Hellas,  probably  by  way  of  Athens,  which  city  was 
the  center  of  the  Ionic  movement  Eastward  across 
the  sea.  Without  question  these  statements  are 
chiefly  inferences  derived  from  brief  passing  allu- 
sions mainly  in  the  Iliad,  through  whose  diversified 
scenes  ,however,  we  have  already  traced  three  dis- 
tinct steps  in  the  present  evolution  of  the  poet. 

Of  the  Achillean  Homer,  then,  as  we  designate 
him  in  this  period  of  his  biography,  we  here  re- 
capitulate the  stages.  (1)  The  Northern,  Thessa- 
lian,  Olympian  youth  who  reflects  the  impress  of 
his  earliest  environment  in  his  poem.  (2)  The 
migrating  adventurer  over  the  Egean  to  Asia  Mi- 
nor, where  he  had  to  become  for  a  time  the  soldier 


HOMER  IN  SMYRNA  cxxxvii 

fighting  against  the  Oriental.  This  gave  him  his 
direct  personal  experience  of  warfare,  which  he 
knows  and  shows  in  all  its  details  throughout  his 
descriptions  of  combat  on  the  plain  of  Troy.  Of 
course  he  was  not  an  eye-witness  of  the  old  Trojan 
conflict  of  Priam's  age,  he  was  too  late  for  that ;  but 
he  did  see  and  participate  in  the  similar  struggle 
along  the  Asiatic  border,  for  it  was  still  kept  up  in 
his  time,  and  indeed  has  never  ceased  except  at 
intervals,  inasmuch  as  it  is  going  on  to-day  more 
vigorously  than  ever.  Napoleon,  the  best  military- 
judge,  reading  the  Iliad,  affirmed  the  distinctive 
soldiership  of  Homer,  who  manifests  in  his  make- 
up a  pronounced  strain  of  the  fighter's  delight  in 
battle,  the  native  gaudium  certaminis.  But  also  he 
as  poet  emphasizes  its  ethical  suppression  just  in 
the  career  of  his  most  pugnacious  Hero  Achilles, 
who  becomes  reconciled  and  ends  his  warlike  ex- 
ploits in  a  truce.  (3)  This  placated  strain  in  the 
poem  and  in  the  man  brings  us  to  Homer's  Smyrna- 
ean  days  of  repose  and  retrospection,  when  he, 
gathering  up  in  peace  the  haps  and  mishaps  of  his 
own  foregone  life,  and  looking  backward  possibly 
two  hundred  years  in  imagination  to  the  Trojan 
aforetime,  projected  his  experiences  into  a  famous 
mythical  past,  as  so  many  other  poets  have  done 
since.  Accordingly,  the  claim  is  made  that  Ho- 
mer, having  reached  his  full  middle-age,  and  hav- 
ing settled  down  for  a  while  in  quiet  at  Smyrna 
amid  a  congenial  environment  for  his  work,  com- 
posed his  Iliad  about  as  we  have  it  now,  elaborating 


CXXXviii  HOMER'S  LIFELINES 

and  organizing  all  the  forementioned  stages,  which 
he  has  passed  through  in  his  own  career,  and  then 
embodied  in  the  story  of  his  Hero  Achilles.  Of 
course  this  view  quite  abolishes  the  ancient  redac- 
tion of  Pisistratus,  as  well  as  the  modern  Wolfian 
theory  in  all  its  ramifications. 

Now  it  is  incumbent  upon  the  propounder  of 
euch  hardy  Homeric  heterodoxy  to  bolster  it  with 
every  corroborating  incident  which  can  be  culled 
out  of  the  poet's  words.  It  is  true  Smyrna  is  not 
mentioned  by  Homer,  for  what  seems  a  good 
artistic  reason :  the  city  probably  did  not  yet  exist, 
certainly  had  not  yet  bloomed,  in  the  age  of  the 
Trojan  War  of  which  he  sings.  Still  it  can  be 
seen  to  be  the  most  favorable  spot  for  the  poet's 
task,  from  the  hints  scattered  through  his  book. 
Indeed  antiquity  already  had  selected  Smyrna  as 
the  right  Homeric  center,  from  whose  outlook  the 
man  is  to  be  viewed  and  unfolded  in  his  work  and 
in  himself.  So  we  shall  bring  before  ourselves  the 
main  propitious  circumstances  which  could  prompt 
Homer  in  Smyrna  to  his  poetic  creativity. 

I.  The  first  and  most  significant  fact  which  is  to 
be  stressed  here  at  the  start,  is  that  Smyrna  itself 
in  its  history  and  character  is  a  reconciled  city, 
reconciled  after  a  bitter  prolonged  tribal  feud, 
thus  resembling  both  the  poet  and  his  poem.  For 
Smyrna  is  known  to  have  been  made  up  of  two 
diverse  kinds  of  Greek  population,  whicK  after 
much  strife  were  harmonized  and  dwelt  together  in 
civic  peace  spiced  of  course  with  some  strife.    It3 


HOMER  IN  SMYRNA  cxxxix 

first  colonists  were  Aeolic  and  belonged  for  the 
most  part  to  Northern  Greece ;  but  the  lonians  who 
settled  on  the  Southern  border  of  Aeolis,  seized 
Smyrna  furtively  and  would  make  it  Ionic,  doubt- 
less incorporating  with  themselves  a  large  part  of 
its  former  citizens.  Such  a  two-foldness  or  divided 
origin  in  its  inhabitants  gave  to  Smyrna  its  pe- 
culiar character  among  the  Greek  cities,  being  Eolo- 
lonic  in  quite  all  that  it  was  or  did,  or  even  said, 
for  its  speech  seemingly  was  a  composite  of  its  two 
tribal  dialects.  Hence  it  comes  that  Homer's  epic 
tongue  is  called  Eolo-Ionic,  being  sprung  unques- 
tionably from  this  double  language  of  Smyrna,  for 
he  could  not  have  found  it  any  where  else  in  Ana- 
tolia or  in  the  whole  Greek  world.  Thus  the  poet 's 
very  vocables  singing  from  his  vocal  chords,  con- 
stitute a  kind  of  mediated  or  reconciled  dialect, 
doubtless  reflecting  the  general  character  of  those 
who  made  it  and  used  it  in  daily  intercourse. 

Moreover  it  should  be  observed  that  the  North- 
ern and  Southern  elements  of  Hellas,  which  we 
have  already  seen  playing  such  an  important  part 
in  the  fallings-out  and  makings-up  of  the  Greek 
host  before  Troy,  find  their  respective  representa- 
tives in  the  two  tribal  ingredients  of  Smyrna,  as  the 
Aeolic  belonged  more  to  the  North  and  the  Ionic 
more  to  the  South.  Hence  some  burning  examples 
of  the  quarrel  between  Thessalian  Achilles  and 
Achaean  Agamemnon  the  poet  could  have  witnessed 
on  the  streets  of  Smyrna  many  a  time  and  oft. 
And  also  it  is  conceivable  that  he  saw  the  quarrel 


Cxl  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

reconciled,  or  rather  he  would  naturally  have  be- 
come the  chief  reconciler  himself,  so  that  he  in 
real  life  uttered  his  nobly  soothing  exhortations  to 
placability  put  into  the  mouth  of  Phoenix,  who  in 
the  Iliad  addresses  them  to  the  angry  unreconciled 
Hero. 

Thus  the  Eolo-Ionic  city  must  have  lived  a  sort 
of  compromise  and  continuous  mutual  placation, 
which  was  imprinted  upon  the  actual  words  of  its 
people  and  its  poet.  But  having  thus  mediated  its 
inner  conflict,  doubtless  with  occasional  relapses 
into  the  old  strifeful  dualism,  Smyrna  will  be  com- 
pelled to  face  her  intenser  and  much  larger  outer 
conflict. 

II.  This  is  the  cardinal,  enduring,  and  ever-en- 
larging struggle  between  Greece  and  the  Orient, 
whose  battle-line  lay  not  so  very  far  Eastward 
from  Smyrna's  city-limits.  Already  in  our  previ- 
ous notice  of  the  Trojan  War,  this  its  basic  signifi- 
cance has  been  duly  emphasized  in  detail.  Those 
old  Greeks  fighting  at  Troy  were  united  not  so 
much  by  the  special  case  of  dubious  Helen  as  by 
the  feeling,  quite  unconscious,  that  their  national 
destiny  was  at  stake.  Evidently  Northern  Hellas, 
as  we  may  catch  from  the  words  of  Achilles,  was 
not  particularly  aglow  for  the  restoration  of  the 
uncertainly  stolen  woman  of  the  South.  And  on 
the  other  side,  the  allies  of  Troy  would  be  still  less 
able  to  feel  much  enthusiasm  in  the  fight  to  uphold 
the  rape  of  the  Spartan  wife  by  Trojan  Paris, 
whose  deed  was  denounced  openly  in  Troy  by  his 


HOMER  IN  SMYRNA  cxli 

own  brother  Hector.  We  are  not  to  forget  that 
these  auxiliaries  of  Ilium  extended  from  Thrace 
on  the  North  to  Lycia  far  to  the  South.  Not  much 
is  told  about  them,  but  evidently  they  regarded  the 
Trojan  cause  as  their  own,  seeing  or  feeling  in  it 
some  principle  deeper  and  more  compelling  than 
Troy's  questionable  detention  of  Helen.  They 
were  Orientals,  and  had  their  own  world-view, 
however  crude  and  primitive,  for  which  they  were 
forward  to  fight  in  opposition  to  the  dawning  new 
civilisation  of  Hellas,  which  they  already  felt  to 
be  hostile  to  their  own.  And  so  they  still  feel  and 
fight  to-day,  as  we  try  to  make  our  reader  never 
forget,  recalling  to  him  Time's  best  and  most 
eternal  commentary  on  the  Iliad. 

Now  into  this  earlier  mythical  account,  History 
begins  to  interweave  its  later  and  more  authentic 
record.  Herodotus,  the  true  successor,  and  in  many 
respects  the  most  suggestive  interpreter  of  Homer, 
opens  his  great  work  with  the  manifold  conflicts  be- 
tween these  colonies  of  the  Anatolian  coast  and  the 
Oriental  or  Orientalizing  peoples  of  the  interior 
country.  That  is,  the  grand  collision  between  Hel- 
las and  Asia  has  advanced,  or  rather  is  just  ad- 
vancing, out  of  the  Mythus  of  the  poet  into  the 
Prose  of  the  historian  on  whose  pages  Smyrna  now 
appears.  Moreover  the  protagonists  of  the  oppos- 
ing sides  have  not  a  little  changed ;  instead  of  the 
Trojans  we  find  in  Herodotus  the  Lydians  as  the 
first  historic  upholders  of  the  Oriental  tendency; 
and  instead  of  the  continental  Greeks,  their  col- 


CXlii  HOMER'8  LIFE-LINES 

onists  in  Asia  Minor  have  to  fight  for  the  Hellenic 
inheritance  against  Lydia,  of  which  country  the 
name  is  not  mentioned  in  Homer. 

There  can  be  hardly  any  just  doubt  that  the 
poet  lived  in  the  midst  of  this  Greek  conflict  with 
the  earlier  Lydian  monarchs,  who  reach  quite  back 
to  hazy  tradition.  He  fought  in  it,  obtained  his 
vivid  experience  of  war  from  it,  and  saw  in  it  a 
further  development  of  the  persistent  conflict  be- 
tween Greece  and  Asia  which  had  already  started 
centuries  before  on  the  plains  of  Troy.  He  sup- 
pressed all  mention  of  Lydia  in  his  poem,  doubt- 
less with  design,  possibly  alluding  to  it  under  the 
name  of  Maeonia.  Indeed  Homer  himself  was 
sometimes  called,  or  it  may  be  nicknamed  Maeo- 
nides. 

A  later  account,  not  mentioned  by  Herodotus, 
strikingly  indicates  the  bitterness  of  this  early 
Greco-Lydian  conflict,  stating  that  Smyrna  was 
finally  captured  by  the  Lydian  King  Alyattes,  fa- 
ther of  Croesus,  somewhere  about  600  B.  C,  hence 
several  centuries  after  Homer's  time.  But  such 
was  the  prolonged  furiously  destructive  animosity 
between  the  two  contestants  that  the  city  was  com- 
pletely wrecked,  and  lay  deserted  and  in  ruins  like 
Troy  for  four  hundred  years,  when  it  was  rebuilt 
some  time  during  the  Greek  domination  of  Asia,  of 
which  it  was  evidently  a  kind  of  triumphal  me- 
morial. All  this,  however,  is  denied  by  Mr.  Grote 
and  others.  Still  Smyrna  endures  to-day  in  the 
same  locality  and  in  the  same  hate,  engaged  in  the 


HOMER  IN  SMYRNA  cxliii 

same  old  Trojan  and  Lydian  warfare,  with  the  old 
battle-line  over  against  it  now  manned  by  the 
Turks. 

Of  course  the  poet,  according  to  wont,  projected 
back  into  the  mythical  past  of  Troy  his  present 
real  experience  of  Smyrna.  Why  should  he  select 
that  antique  Trojan  Mythus  for  the  framework  of 
his  world- constructing  conception  of  the  Iliad? 
Such  a  choice,  most  important  for  his  vast  poetic 
enterprise,  is  deeply  indeed  creatively  connected 
with  his  stay  at  Smyrna.  Of  this  significant  fact 
pertaining  to  Homer's  first  poetic  activity,  some- 
thing relevant  can  be  next  adduced. 

III.  Smyrna  was  the  natural  center  for  the  rise, 
growth,  and  complete  efflorescence  of  the  Mythus  of 
Troy,  whose  battle-field  lay  not  so  very  far-off  up 
the  coast-line  in  the  so-called  Troad.  Moreover 
the  Trojan  fight  was  essentially  that  of  Smyrna 
herself,  who  had  to  keep  it  up  long  after  the  fall 
of  Ilium.  The  Lydian  king  had  taken  the  place  of 
Priam,  and  the  Greek  war-front  now  embraced  the 
whole  row  of  colonies,  Aeolic,  Ionic,  Doric  strowTi 
along  the  Anatolian  coast,  all  of  which  were  in  a 
perpetual  struggle  with  the  Asiatic  peoples  of  the 
interior.  Smyrna  by  its  position  and  character, 
was  the  earlier  protagonist  in  this  struggle;  but 
when  she  weakened  and  was  captured,  the  Greek 
colonial  headship  fell  to  the  stronger  Miletus, 
which  city  also  was  finally  conquered  by  the  Lydian 
king  Croesus. 

But  from  Troy 's  fall  till  Homer 's  stay  at  Smyrna 


cxliv  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

some  centuries  had  elapsed,  let  us  say  provision- 
ally two  hundred  years,  for  no  exact  count  can 
be  made.  During  this  considerable  onflow  of  time, 
the  Hellenic  mind,  the  most  self-recording  that 
ever  existed,  was  busy  with  telling  about  itself,  es- 
pecially where  and  with  what  it  was  most  fully 
and  tensely  at  work.  Its  form  of  self-expression, 
in  the  present  stage  of  its  development,  was  what 
it  called  in  its  own  speech  mythopoeic;  that  is,  it 
uttered  itself  mythically.  Hence  this  was  the  crea- 
tive epoch  of  Greek  Mythology,  which  still  main- 
tains its  cultural  worth  in  art  and  poetry,  and 
even  in  education. 

But  the  special  shape  which  the  Greek  Mythus 
took  at  Smyrna  and  everywhere  in  the  Anatolian 
colonies,  then  the  most  progressive  and  creative 
part  of  total  Hellas,  was  the  tale  of  Troy,  since  this 
expressed  the  most  immediate,  intimate,  and  trying 
experience  of  their  exposed  daily  life.  They  were 
all  still  fighting  the  Trojan  War  in  Homer's  time 
two  centuries  afterward,  and,  let  the  reader  keep 
re-thinking,  they  are  fighting  it  just  now.  The 
bards  sang  the  song  of  Troy  to  the  listening  folk 
in  the  city's  market-place,  and  it  could  be  heard 
in  the  onset  of  battle  against  the  Lydian  or  other 
Oriental  foe.  Thus  had  arisen  a  considerable  body 
of  popular  poetry  in  and  around  Smyrna,  and 
doubtless  in  other  places.  A  vast  incoherent,  un- 
organized mass  of  seething  versicles  we  may  well 
conceive  such  a  product,  yet  surging  directly  from 
the  heart  of  people  in  its  deepest  pulsations  over 
its  ever-lowering  crisis. 


HOMER  IN  SMYRNA  Cxlv 

Now  amid  such  a  tumultuous  riot  of  song  ap- 
pears the  great  poetical  organizer,  Homer,  who 
seizes  the  wriggling  congeries  of  spontaneous  lays, 
and  brings  order  and  organisation  into  this  prime- 
val chaos  of  poetry.  He  constructs  and  unifies  out 
of  these  uncouth  refractory  materials  the  one  great 
Mythus  of  Troy,  building  it  into  his  Iliad,  which 
catches  also  the  near-by  musical  sea-roll  of  the 
Egean  in  its  buoyant  hexameters.  Thus  Homer  at 
Smyrna,  in  one  supreme  deed  of  creation,  may  be 
acclaimed  the  maker  {poietes)  of  the  Greek  lan- 
guage, mythology,  poetry,  and  religion,  forming  or 
re-forming  them  out  of  their  pre-existent  proto- 
plasmic elements  spouting  up  sporadically  every- 
where from  the  early  formless  Greek  folk-soul. 
Such  is  his  unique  poetic  achievement  there  on  this 
Eolo-Ionic  border,  seemingly  without  parallel  in 
the  World's  History.  Even  his  name  Homer  as 
already  indicated,  suggests  his  true  character  as  the 
organizer,  the  unifier,  the  bringer-together,  accord- 
ing to  its  best  derivation.  Here  we  should  not  fail 
to  note  that  the  modern  school  of  Wolf  and  his  dis- 
ciples have  had  as  their  chief  object  to  assail  and 
to  undo  just  this  supreme  architectonic  achieve- 
ment of  Homer's  genius,  wrecking  his  classic 
temple  of  song  into  its  original  scattered  lays,  seek- 
ing to  dissolve  his  finished  poetic  organism  into  its 
primordial  atoms. 

IV.  But  did  not  Homer  have  his  rivals,  his  fel- 
low-poets, his  group  of  competitive  singers,  of 
whom  he  was  the  chief?    At  Smyrna  there  must 


Cxlvi  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINE8 

have  been  in  his  time  a  notable  upburst  of  mythical 
activity  expressing  itself  in  story  and  song.  Homer 
stood  not  alone  in  composing  his  Iliad;  rather  was 
he  the  outcome  and  culminant  efforescence  of  a 
great  poetic  movement.  Yet  no  record  of  any  such 
occurrence  has  come  down  to  us;  no  name  of  his 
next  best  compeer  have  we  ever  heard,  or  has  the 
poet  himself  mentioned  in  his  book.  Still  we  have 
to  think  that  the  Mythus  of  Troy  continued  a  long 
time  in  flower,  and  produced  many  poets  before 
Homer,  as  it  failed  not  to  do  after  him ;  he  was  the 
pinnacle  as  well  as  the  all-containing  edifice  of  the 
age 's  poetic  architecture. 

So  it  comes  that  the  Mythus  of  Troy,  effervescing 
thus  deeply  and  continuously  in  the  heart  of  the 
people,  could  not  help  bubbling  up  into  many  a  lay 
little  and  large,  of  more  or  less  worth.  So  we  con- 
ceive naturally  of  a  stimulating  poetic  environment 
around  the  supreme  poet  in  his  Smyrnaean  home. 

We  are  led  to  the  same  view  by  what  we  know 
historically  of  the  other  World-Poets,  who  present 
a  similar  situation.  Young  Dante  at  Florence  was 
surrounded  and  encouraged  by  a  group  of  versifiers 
like  himself,  who  gave  him  a  certain  urge  and  train- 
ing, but  whom  he  so  utterly  outstripped  that  he 
has  been  able  to  preserve  their  names  from  oblivion. 
In  like  manner  Shakespeare  rose  and  flourished  mid 
a  cluster  of  lesser  dramatists,  most  of  whom  to-day 
are  illumined  chiefly  through  his  lamp.  And  young 
Goethe  grew  up  in  a  set  of  young  poets  who  par- 
took of  the  same  stormy  outbreak  of  song.    But  of 


HOMER  IN  SMYRNA  cxlvii 

Homer's  poetic  comrades  we  have  no  information, 
and  yet  we  feel  from  his  words  and  his  circum- 
stances that  such  a  group  must  have  existed.  The 
Iliad  has  little  to  say  of  the  Homeric  singer,  but  the 
Odyssey  tells  us  much  about  him,  giving  many  de- 
tails of  his  calling  which  must  have  come  mainly 
from  the  poet's  own  experiences  at  Smyrna.  The 
bards  Phemius,  Demodocus,  yea  the  singing  Ulysses 
himself  poetizing  his  own  adventures  in  Fableland 
(Odyssey  Books  IX-XII),  presuppose  a  knowledge, 
a  discipline,  and  an  inspiration  which  could  hardly 
be  obtained  otherwhence  than  from  a  traditional 
guild  of  poets,  natural  conservators  and  promul- 
gators of  past  poetic  excellence,  as  well  as  of  their 
own.  Indeed  we  shall  find  that  persistent  fame, 
streaming  down  through  hoar  antiquity,  possibly 
from  the  man  in  person,  has  kept  alive  the  whis- 
pered word  that  Homer  himself  in  his  old-age,  re- 
turning from  his  travels,  established  a  guild  or 
school  of  poets  in  the  island  of  Chios,  neighbor  to 
Smyrna  on  the  mainland.  Whereof  something 
more  is  to  be  set  forth  in  a  later  part  of  this  Ho- 
meric essay. 

At  present,  however,  there  rises  before  us  an- 
other insistent  interrogation :  what  was  the  setting 
of  nature  at  and  around  Smyrna  for  the  poet — 
what  traces  of  his  physical  environment  can  we  find 
in  his  poem?  For  that  locality  too  must  have  left 
its  marks  upon  the  middle-aged  man  and  his  work, 
just  as  the  Olympian  scenery  had  once  stamped 
ineffaceably  its  impress  upon  the  imagination  of 
the  youth. 


Cxlviii  HOMER'8  LIFE-LINES 

V.  Let  the  most  salient  point  connecting  the 
landscape  of  Smyrna  with  the  poet  be  cited  at  the 
start.  It  occurs  in  the  passage  where  Achilles,  be- 
ing not  merely  reconciled  but  sympathetic  with  his 
arch  foe,  King  Priam,  consoles  the  heart-broken 
father  for  the  loss  of  Hector  whom  he  himself  has 
slain  and  maltreated  in  death:  *'Here,  old  man, 
thy  son  lies  ransomed  on  his  couch.  And  now  let 
us  bethink  ourselves  of  repast,  for  even  fair-haired 
Niobe  did  not  forget  her  food  on  the  very  day  when 
lier  twelve  children,  six  sons  and  six  daughters, 
were  slain.  .  .  .  Yonder  now  she,  amid  the 
rocks  and  solitary  hills,  is  sitting  on  Mount  Sipylus, 
where  she,  though  turned  to  a  stone,  is  digesting 
(pessei)  her  calamities  sent  of  the  Gods.'*  (Iliad 
XXIV,  600-617.)  Such  are  the  deeply  pathetic 
words  which  the  finally  transformed  Achilles  utters 
in  his  tent  at  Troy  to  his  royal  foe  at  his  knees — 
one  of  the  most  Homeric  passages  of  all  Homer 
though  slashed  out  by  certain  recent  critics,  Ger- 
man and  English. 

And  now  the  questful  reader  is  to  conceive  the 
imaginative  poet  in  his  tent  or  cottage  on  his  hil- 
lock at  or  near  Smyrna,  where  he  could  see  looming 
in  the  horizon  the  fore-mentioned  Mount  Sipylus 
which  belonged  to  Smyrna  *s  landscape,  not  at  all  to 
Troy's,  and  which  ever  held  up  before  the  city  the 
fatuous  Niobe  weeping  for  her  children.  At  such 
view  he  put  his  most  affecting  passage  into  the 
mouth  of  his  new-born  Hero,  who  no  longer  slays 
but  tenderly  comforts  his  chief  enemy,  yea  will  pro- 


HOMER  IN  SMYRNA  cxlix 

teet  the  latter  against  danger  from  Agamemnon 
and  other  Greeks  near  at  hand.  And  to  Sipylus 
Homer  seems  to  annex  a  rivulet  under  the  name  of 
Achelous  (word  probably  related  to  Achilles), 
which  name  is  taken  from  the  mightiest  river  of 
continental  Greece  flowing  down  from  the  Northern 
homelands  of  the  poet  and  his  hero. 

The  story  of  Niobe  has  fascinated  the  creative 
imagination  of  the  ages  since  Homer.  The  long 
line  of  Greek  poets  employed  it  in  one  way  or  other 
after  him;  indeed  it  became  a  kind  of  image  or 
symbol  of  fateful  tragic  Hellas  herself,  so  often  be- 
reaved in  the  course  of  her  long  history  through 
her  insolence  against  the  Gods.  And  Niobe  must 
be  bowing  her  head  and  weeping  over  her  Smyrna 
this  very  morning  (September  16,  1922)  in  the 
greatest  tragedy  of  her  thousands  of  years. 

But  the  loftiest  most  compelling  expression  of 
the  legend  is  found  in  plastic  Art,  which  has  trans- 
mitted to  the  present  time  the  famous  Niobe  group, 
often  supposed  to  be  the  work  of  the  sculptor 
Scopas  (somewhat  after  400  B.  C).  Thus  Homer's 
poetic  look  upon  Sipylus  from  Smyrna  has  begot- 
ten a  steady  stream  of  artistic  children  down  the 
centuries,  and  has  shown  itself  far  more  prolific 
than  boastful  Niobe.  But  the  biographic  point  for 
us  now  is  that  we  catch  a  look  at  Homer  writing  his 
Iliad  at  Smyrna  in  view  of  Mount  Sipylus,  which 
he  transfers  in  his  poetic  fervor  to  the  Trojan  land- 
scape. 

Antiquity  has  testified  to  the  actual  petrified  fe- 


Cl  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

male  shape  formed  from  a  mountain  which  hung  its 
head  and  shed  tears  in  apparent  grief  just  behind 
Smyrna.  Pausanias,  Greek  traveler  and  author  of 
an  ancient  guide-book  of  Hellas  (he  flourished 
probably  a  little  after  100  A.  D.)  tells  of  his  trip 
to  inspect  this  unique  colossal  figure  of  stone :  * '  I 
myself  saw  this  Niobe,  having  ascended  Mount 
Sipylus;  from  near  at  hand  it  is  simply  a  steep 
rock,  without  human  outline.  But  when  you  get 
at  some  distance  from  it,  you  will  seem  to  behold  a 
woman  downcast  and  shedding  tears.'*  (I,  21,  3). 
Some  recent  archaeologists  have  conjectured  that 
the  mountainous  image  is  the  work  of  that  uncer- 
tain, still  very  crepuscular  people  lately  resurrected 
as  the  Hittites. 

Such  is  the  most  striking  and  characteristic  in- 
stance of  Homer's  employment  of  the  Smyrnaean 
landscape,  indicating  the  familiar  eye-witness  of  the 
thing  described.  Moreover  the  poet  has  made  the 
scene  from  nature  take  his  immediate  mood,  which 
is  that  of  sorrow  at  calamity,  resignation  to  the  will 
of  the  Gods,  and  placability.  Thus  the  physical 
environment  of  Smyrna  mirrors  what  we  have  des- 
ignated as  the  third  stage  of  Achilles  and  of  his 
poet. 

Far  more  fully,  however,  and  variously  pictured 
is  the  landscape  of  the  Troad  in  the  poem.  But  this 
landscape  is  more  or  less  destructively  mooded  by 
the  poet,  who  is  here  the  fighter,  the  assailant,  the 
destroyer.  Troy,  her  walls,  her  rivers,  her  moun- 
tains, are  given  a  hostile  appearance,  and  take  the 


HOMER  IN  SMYRNA  cli 

look  of  opposing  the  invaders  of  their  territory. 
Trojan  nature  is  of  course  the  foe  of  the  Greek 
army,  and  poetically  reflects  the  Trojan  spirit  as 
well  as  the  people  of  Troy.  What  a  valiant  divine 
fight  is  made  by  the  River  Scamander  flowing 
through  Troy 's  plain,  as  its  surges  foam  up  angrily 
and  overwhelm  even  the  God-defiant  Greek  Hero 
Achilles,  making  him  flee  and  pray  for  death  rather 
than  meet  it !    (Iliad  XXI.) 

Still  different  from  both  these  was  the  Thessa- 
lian  landscape,  in  which  were  reared  the  young 
Achilles,  and  doubtless  the  young  Homer.  Nature 
here  assumed  her  exalted  mountainous  shape,  and 
was  portrayed  by  the  poet  in  his  enthusiastic 
Olympian  mood,  which  conceived  and  enthroned 
Zeus  and  the  Gods  on  high — all  of  which  may  be 
deemed  his  sublimest  effort. 

Thus  the  observant  reader  will  find  and  feel  in 
the  total  sweep  of  the  Iliad  the  three  internal  stages 
of  the  evolution  of  the  poet  (as  they  have  been  al- 
ready set  forth)  hinted  sympathetically  through 
the  external  shapes  of  Nature  in  the  poem.  For 
we  have  already  traced  him  along  with  his  hero  liv- 
ing first  mid  the  lofty  scenery  of  Olympus,  home  of 
his  God-world ;  then  we  have  noted  his  belligerent 
mood  in  the  hostile  landscape  of  Troy,  which  cul- 
minates in  the  fighting  river  Scamander ;  finally  at 
Smyrna  in  the  figure  of  bowed  and  weeping 
Mount  Sipylus  is  imaged  his  new  spirit  of  sym- 
pathy and  placability,  when  he  even  throbs  condo- 
lence with  his  bereaved  foe.    So  we  are  to  observe 


Clii  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

that  the  poet  makes  environing  Nature  with  all  her 
externality  into  a  sensitive  mirror  reflecting  his 
soul's  innermost  development. 

Herewith  that  part  of  the  poet's  life"  which  we 
have  called  the  Achillean  Homer  has  come  to  a  close. 
It  is  the  First  Period  of  his  entire  career,  which  he 
has  unfolded  with  so  much  imaginative  power  in 
the  Iliadf  ending  his  poem  with  complete  pacifica- 
tion of  his  Hero,  and  of  himself  too.  From  that 
height  he  refuses  to  let  his  Achilles  fall  again, 
though  later  poets  will  start  the  hero  to  battle  anew 
before  the  walls  of  Troy,  where  he  is  doomed  to 
perish.  Still  such  an  end  of  him,  though  foretold, 
is  kept  out  of  the  action  of  the  Iliad. 

But,  though  the  career  of  Homeric  Achilles  is 
closed,  that  of  his  creator,  the  poet,  is  not;  on  the 
contrary  the  latter  still  evolves  ahead,  passing  over 
into  a  wholly  new  sphere  of  development  which 
we  emphasize  as  the  second  grand  Period  of  his 
life's  evolution.  Again  no  directly  documented 
dates,  localities,  events,  or  only  of  the  vaguest  sort ; 
still  we  have  the  writ,  the  Odyssey,  in  which  we 
can  follow  the  poet's  free  self  in  its  inner  trans- 
formations, quite  divested  of  all  the  external  trap- 
pings of  the  day's  or  the  place's  circumstance. 
Homer  now  cuts  loose  from  Smyrna  for  reasons 
which  we  shall  try  to  trace  later.  No  longer  the 
fighting  Achilles  fixed  to  one  spot,  but  the  wan- 
dering Ulysses  in  search  of  his  right  home  and  true 
self,  does  he  seek  to  portray  and  to  be  henceforth. 

So  it  comes  that  we  cannot  tell  the  day,  the  year, 


HOMER  IN  SMYRNA  cliii 

or  even  the  century,  when  Homer  set  out  upon  his 
middle  life's  journey  whose  experiences,  cuter  and 
inner  he  is  to  hymn  into  hexametral  harmony  like 
to  the  measures  of  the  Iliad.  Such  was  his  spirit 's 
flight  from  his  old  past  to  his  new  future,  the  grand 
departure  of  his  genius  from  what  it  had  done  to 
what  it  has  yet  to  do.  He  is  unwilling  to  grow 
aged  and  ossified  in  the  one  poem,  however  great. 
Such  is  the  profound  mental  change  which  the  sym- 
pathetic reader  will  feel  when  he  follows  in  spirit 
the  poet's  transition  from  his  Iliad  to  his  Odyssey. 
All-sidedly  illuminating  should  be,  we  think,  the 
comparison  between  the  first  World-Poet,  Homer, 
and  the  last  World-Poet,  Goethe,  at  a  similar  su- 
preme turn  of  their  careers,  which  takes  place  at 
about  the  same  time  of  their  lives,  though  these 
be  so  many  centuries  apart.  But  first  let  us  mark 
this  difference :  we  know  the  day,  the  year,  and  the 
very  hour  when  Goethe  began  his  flight  from  the 
crushing  environment  of  his  official  routine,  and 
started  on  his  race  for  his  soul's  liberation  in 
Italy.  He  preludes  his  Italian  Tour  thus:  ''At 
three  o'clock  in  the  morning  I  stole  out  of  Carls- 
bad, for  otherwise  I  could  not  have  gotten  away 
from  my  friends.  Having  packed  a  suitcase  and  a 
knapsack,  I  spra,ng  into  the  post-chaise  on  the  third 
of  September,  1786. ' '  He  records  that  he  had  just 
reached  thirty-eight  years  of  age,  when  it  had  ''be- 
come impossible  to  stay  here  any  longer. ' '  So  away 
he  flees  to  the  antique  classic  South  for  winning 
what  he  repeatedly  calls  his  New  Birth  (Palingene- 


Cliv  HOMER'S  LIFE'LINEB 

sis).  In  a  similar  spirit  and  at  a  similar  stage  of 
his  life  Homer  must  have  quit  his  worn-out  Ana- 
tolian environment,  and  have  traveled  back  to  what 
was  for  him  antique  Hellas,  ''whose  cities  he  saw 
and  whose  mind  he  knew."  Of  course  he  masks 
this  pivotal  experience  of  his  life  in  the  Mythus  of 
the  grand  Trojan  Returner  Ulysses,  which  was  just 
his  native  form  of  self-expression,  while  Goethe  has 
narrated  to  us  his  classic  journey  in  direct  prose  as 
well  as  mirrored  it  in  poetry. 

Nor  will  it  be  amiss  to  signal  the  parallel  fact 
here  that  the  other  two  World-Poets,  Dante  and 
Shakespeare,  have  taken  similar  journeys  for  a  sim- 
ilar purpose  at  quite  the  same  general  time  of  life. 
Dante's  flight  from  troubled  Florence  to  Rome 
that  he  ;might  witness  Christendom 's  Jubilee  at  the 
century's  turn  in  1300,  when  he  was  thirty  five 
years  old,  became  an  epochal  event  in  the  evolution 
of  his  great  poem,  for  there  and  then  he  saw  and 
realized  in  creative  conception  his  Mythus  of  the 
Future  State  as  the  grand  theme  of  his  song  (see 
our  Life  of  Dante  p.  263).  And  Shakespeare  in 
numerous  dramas  gives  evidence  of  a  personal  con- 
tact and  acquaintance  with  Italy,  whose  cultural 
training  and  lore  wind  through  his  entire  poetical 
career. 

So  in  this  matter  as  in  not  a  few  others,  we  find 
Homer  illustrated  and  interpreted  by  the  later 
World-Poets,  truly  the  spiritual  brothers  and  right 
reflectors  of  his  genius.  Again  we  are  to  recall  that 
the  sole  biography  of  Homer  lurks  ideally  in  his 


HOMER  IN  SMYRNA  clv 

two  poems,  through  whose  strains,  however,  we  may 
detect  many  real  life-lines  secretly  winding,  which 
are  to  be  traced  and  illumined  from  the  known 
events  and  crises  of  equally  lofty  poetic  souls. 

Now  we  are  hopefully  ready  to  enter  upon  the 
Second  Period  of  this  biography  of  the  poet,  which 
we  shall  call  the  Ulyssean  Homer,  whose  life  hence- 
forth we  have  to  construe  as  released  from  all  real 
places  and  times  and  historic  occurrences,  and  to 
sublimate  into  the  pure  movement  of  his  spirit 
creating  an  ideal  Space  and  Time  which  are  the 
setting  of  his  new  poem. 


clvi  HOMER'S  LIFE'LINEa 


CHAPTER  SECOND. 
THE  VLY88EAN  HOMER. 

Here  then  is  to  be  emphasized  the  supreme  tran- 
sition in  the  poet's  life,  from  his  first  hero  Achilles 
to  his  second  hero  Ulysses ;  from  his  first  great  work 
the  Iliad,  to  his  second,  the  Odyssey ;  from  the  first 
Period  of  his  biography  to  the  one  now  to  be  un- 
folded, the  second.  This  latter  also,  like  the  former, 
is  a  chronicle  of  his  personal  experience,  projected 
into  a  mj^hical  form  and  connected  with  the  Tale 
of  Troy. 

The  prime  external  fact  of  Homer's  biography  at 
this  stage  is  his  departure  from  Smyrna,  where  he 
had  lived  and  wrought  during  a  number  of  years 
not  to  be  exactly  counted.  He  has  gotten  his  Tro- 
jan or  rather  his  Anatolian  experience,  and  has 
expressed  it  in  his  Iliad.  Smyrna  with  its  environ- 
ment has  given  him  all  that  it  has  to  impart,  or  at 
least  all  that  he  wishes  of  it  or  can  receive.  Our 
belief  is  that  he  had  come  to  feel  a  reaction  against 
the  incessant  strife  between  the  Greeks  and  Asiatics 
which  that  Eastern  borderland  was  always  foment- 
ing. The  Odyssey  shows  more  than  one  sign  of  an 
inner  recoil  from  the  Trojan  War,  and  certainly 
moves  in  the  opposite  direction,  out  of  the  East  to- 
ward the  West. 

Moreover  Homer  could  not  help  seeing  that  the 
conflict  between  Hellas  and  the  Orient  was  still 


THE    VLY88EAN  HOMER  clvii 

unsettled,  though  Troy  had  fallen  two  hundred 
years  already  before  his  time.  He  perceived  that 
the  struggle  was  destined  to  be  a  long-lasting  one, 
from  which  he,  having  recorded  its  one  typical 
deed  of  Troy,  had  better  henceforth  avert  his  face. 
Then  it  was  not  difficult  for  him  with  his  poetic 
seership  to  forecast  that  this  frontier  city  of 
Smyrna  would  finally  be  conquered  by  some  Lydian 
Monarch  (as  it  was),  and  that  all  the  Greek  col- 
onies of  Asia  Minor  were  in  the  end  to  pass  under 
the  yoke  of  the  neighboring  Oriental  despots 
(which  actually  occurred,  as  the  historian  Hero- 
dotus has  documented).  In  other  words  his  pre- 
vision foretold  him  that  his  fair  Hellenic  Anatolia 
was  fated,  and  that  he  would  be  fated  with  it  un- 
less he  returned  to  European  Hellas,  which  was  the 
original  home  of  himself  and  his  folk.  Such  is  the 
deepest  undertone  running  through  the  Odyssey, 
and  indicating  how  its  hero  Ulysses  unfates  himself 
by  his  flight  from  fallen  Troy  to  his  old  Ithacan 
abode,  thus  revealing  himself  to  be  at  his  deepest 
the  Fate-compeller.  And  the  Ulyssean  poet  Homer 
mirrors  his  own  case,  we  may  well  think,  when  he 
flees  from  doomed  Smyrna  and  all  Greek  Anatolia 
back  to  his  primeval  stock  in  Europe,  thereby  es- 
caping doom  himself. 

The  Odyssey,  however,  does  not  conduct  its  hero 
to  or  through  Northern  Greece,  the  Olympian  re- 
gion where  Homer  was  probably  born  and  grew  up 
till  he  migrated.  Now  the  scenery  is  no  longer 
mountainous,  but  largely  marine;  the  seascape,  of 


clviii  HOMER'S  LIFE'LINE8 

which  there  is  almost  nothing  in  the  Iliad,  takes  its 
place  prominently  alongside  the  landscape  in  the 
Odyssey,  which  poem  thus  becomes  more  completely 
Greek.  For  Greece  herself,  being  both  peninsular 
and  insular  almost  everywhere,  is  made  up  of  and 
determined  by  the  land  and  the  water  in  quite 
equal  proportions.  It  is,  therefore,  likely  that  Ho- 
mer first  became  acquainted  with  the  full  import  of 
the  sea  in  the  life  of  Greece  at  Smyrna,  which,  as 
well  as  the  other  Greek  cities  along  the  Anatolian 
coast,  lived  on,  with,  and  through  the  Egean.  If 
Homer  passed  his  youth  in  the  mountain-walled 
Thessalian  country  (as  we  think  he  must)  he  would 
be  naturally  cut  off  from  any  great  familiarity 
with  the  sea.  Hence  the  Iliad  has  so  much  to  say 
about  horses,  the  chief  product  of  Thessaly,  and  so 
little  about  ships.  After  some  such  manner  we  may 
account  for  the  striking  change  from  land  to  water 
in  the  two  poems:  the  poet  himself  at  sea-kissed 
Smyrna  has  won  a  new  experience  and  love  of  the 
sea,  which  he  as  usual  embodies  in  his  new  work. 

Some  time  in  the  life  of  Homer,  we  have,  there- 
fore, to  conceive  him  setting  out  from  Smyrna  and 
the  Greek  East,  and  starting  on  his  voyage  West- 
ward across  the  Egean.  For  among  his  other  at- 
tainments he  has  become  an  expert  sailor  at 
Smyrna,  where  every  man  had  something  to  do 
with  navigation.  Thus  the  landman  Homer  has 
turned  the  seaman  Homer  and  can  compose  his 
Odyssey,  whose  hero  is  primarily  the  adventurous 
navigator  Ulysses. 


THE    ULYS8EAN  HOMER  dlX 

The  alert  reader  has  doubtless  already  started 
the  question:  At  what  time  of  life  did  the  poet 
make  this  great  transition — how  old  was  he  when 
he  sailed  out  of  Smyrna  for  a  new  career  in  a  new 
world?  Let  it  be  duly  acknowledged  again  that 
there  is  no  specially  quotable  proof  of  either  his 
stay  at  Smyrna,  as  already  recounted,  or  of  his  de- 
parture which  is  now  affirmed.  But  some  such  in- 
ference lies  in  the  very  genesis  and  evolution  of  his 
two  books,  as  well  as  of  his  own  career  and  charac- 
ter. We  can  overhear  the  author  telling  on  himself 
under  the  mask  of  his  most  strongly  individualized 
personages  of  his  poems.  Watch  their  salient  traits 
and  see  Homer  in  the  soul  of  Achilles  and  then  at 
a  later  time  in  the  soul  of  Ulysses.  Very  different 
though  they  be,  ultimately  they  will  be  seen  to  be 
two  stages  of  one  and  the  same  unfolding  mind  or 
human  intelligence. 

So  much  we  can  here  set  down:  when  Homer 
quits  Smyrna,  passing  out  of  his  Achillean  into 
his  Ulyssean  consciousness,  he  is  no  longer  in  his 
youth,  but  has  reached  what  is  known  as  man's 
middle-age.  The  day,  the  year,  the  century,  of  his 
embarkation  cannot  be  dated,  but  his  spirit's  chro- 
nology is  stamped  on  his  book.  From  antiquity 
also  floats  down  the  saying  that  the  Odyssey  is  the 
work  of  the  poet's  older,  more  tranquil  years.  In 
a  general  way  we  conceive  that  he  must  have  been 
about  the  forties  when  he  took  this  second  pivotal 
step  of  his  career,  and  bade  good-bye  to  the  land 
of  his  Iliad  in  which  he  had  already  foretold  the 


elx  HOMER'8  LIFE-LINES 

passing  of  the  youthful  hero  Achilles,  and  had  dis- 
tinctly preluded  the  rise  of  the  more  intellectual 
Ulysses  to  the  vacant  place  of  poetic  heroship.  At 
any  rate  Homer  appears  to  have  taken  flight  from 
his  old  Smyrnaean  environment  to  a  new  order  at 
about  the  age  when  his  brother  world-poets  of  the 
later  centuries  made  a  similar  lurch  away  from 
their  confining  cities — a  co-incidence  of  which  we 
have  given  some  account  on  a  previous  page. 

Already  in  the  Iliad,  especially  in  the  earlier 
portions,  Ulysses  is  marked  distinctly  as  the  com- 
ing man.  The  Second  Book  exalts  him  the  true 
hero  of  that  perilous  crisis  of  the  war  when  the 
forefighter  Achilles  has  retired  in  wrath  to  his 
tent,  and  when  the  king  Agamemnon  cravenly  de- 
clares that  he  is  ready  to  give  up  the  war  and  to 
flee  back  to  Greece,  and  when  the  whole  army 
makes  a  sudden  panicky  dash  to  launch  their  ships 
for  home.  It  is  Ulysses  who  flings  himself  into  the 
breach,  and  saves  the  day  and  the  cause,  in  striking 
contrast  with  the  hero  and  the  monarch,  both  of 
whom  at  the  extreme  pinch  of  danger  are  shown  to 
be  lacking  in  their  function  of  highest  leadership. 
Such  is  his  supreme  characteristic  deed  in  the  Iliad, 
prophetic  we  may  forefeel  it  of  his  future.  Then 
he  performs  other  notable  feats  in  the  course  of  this 
poem.  But  in  the  Odyssey  he  is  distinctly  pro- 
claimed as  the  final  taker  of  Troy  through  his  in- 
telligence, after  the  Iliad 's  hero  Achilles  had  failed 
of  its  capture  and  fallen  before  its  walls. 

But  just  now  we  may  reflect  again  upon  this  most 


THE  HOMERIC  RETURN  clxi 

characteristic  deed  of  Ulysses,  which  shows  him  in 
action  the  most  determined,  in  mind  the  most  in- 
telligent and  convinced  supporter  of  the  Hellenic 
side  against  Troy  and  the  Orient.  Later  we  shall 
try  to  find  how  he  came  to  take  such  an  attitude, 
which  sprang  from  an  intense  conviction  born  of 
experience. 

I. 
The  Homeric  Return. 

Homer  has  a  word  which  seems  a  favorite  with 
him  for  expressing  the  chief  movement  and  content 
of  his  Odyssey:  it  is  his  much-used  vocable,  the 
Return  (Nostos).  Not  only  does  he  set  forth  the 
Return  of  his  special  hero  Ulysses,  but  he  embraces 
in  his  poem  essentially  the  Return  of  all  the  Greeks 
to  their  European  homes  after  the  fall  of  Troy. 
They  once  separated  from  continental  Hellas  for 
the  grand  enterprise  of  their  people,  and  now  they 
have  remained  away  for  ten  years  from  family  and 
state :  how  are  they  to  get  back  outwardly  and  in- 
wardly, and  what  will  they  find  on  their  arrival? 
Is  it  at  all  likely  that  their  affairs  will  be  in  the 
same  condition  as  when  they  left?  Or  will  their 
places  as  rulers,  husbands,  property-owners  be 
challenged  or  perchance  be  filled,  especially  in  that 
uncertain  early  state  of  society  ? 

It  is  evident  that  Homer  thought  or  came  to 
think  the  Return  from  Troy  to  be  more  hazardous, 
more  diversified  in  adventure,  and  more  deeply 
destiny-laden  for  its  participants  than  the  Trojan 


clxii  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

War  itself.  That  is  he  came  to  think  so  in  his  riper 
years  at  Smyrna,  when  his  Iliad  was  finished  and 
transcended,  and  when  he  had  heard  in  transmitted 
story  and  song  the  manifold  fates  of  these  Return- 
ers (as  they  may  be  called)  throughout  all  Hellas. 
Indeed  one  reason  for  his  quitting  Smyrna  and  set- 
ting out  on  his  travels  was  to  listen  to  these  various 
Returns  of  the  Greek  heroes  as  told  in  their  native 
localities,  and  to  choose  the  most  significant  ones 
for  his  new  poem.  The  Odyssey  shows  everywhere 
some  such  collection  of  the  legendary  lore  of  the 
different  countries  of  Greece.  Homer,  we  must 
never  forget,  did  not  make  his  Mythus;  that  had 
to  be  the  work  of  his  folk,  from  whom  he  took  it  and 
organized  it  and  transfigured  it  into  his  poem. 

The  Odyssey,  then,  calls  itself  in  general  the  Re- 
turn, which  word,  however,  has  in  the  poem  several 
shades  of  meaning.  Of  course  there  was  the  outer 
Return  over  the  uncertain  sea,  in  whose  storms 
some  of  the  Returners  perished,  and  so  never 
reached  their  homeland.  But  the  Odyssey  places 
its  chief  stress  upon  the  inner  obstacles  which 
lurked  in  the  soul  of  the  returning  hero,  and  pre- 
vented him  from  getting  back  to  his  family  and 
folk.  For  his  long  absence  and  also  his  habitual 
deeds  of  violence  in  war  had  moulded  his  character, 
so  that  it  had  become  alien  to  the  peaceful  ways 
and  pursuits  of  the  society  to  which  he  was  now 
coming  back.  Thus  a  deep  spiritual  estrangement 
from  man 's  social  institutions,  especially  from  Fam- 
ily and  State  was  the  grand  counterstroke  which 


THE  HOMERIC  RETURN  clxiii 

fell  upon  the  victors  of  the  Trojan  War.  Some  who 
did  get  back  home  in  body  found  at  their  own 
hearth  their  tragic  end,  as  did  Agamemnon  the 
leader  of  the  Greeks  and  king  of  golden  Mycenae, 
whose  domestic  and  political  fate  sends  a  stream  of 
terrors  through  ancient  and  modern  literature  till 
to-day. 

Homer  shows  a  distinct  pedagogical  aim  in  the 
account  and  the  order  of  these  Returns  of  the 
Greek  conquerors  from  their  Trojan  victory.  He 
seeks  in  them  to  impart  the  most  important  lesson 
of  life,  as  conceived  by  him,  to  the  youth  Tele- 
machus  now  taking  a  course  of  education  which  is 
laid  down  in  the  Odyssey,  whereby  it  becomes  one 
of  the  great  educational  books  of  the  race.  To  be 
sure.  Homer  had  no  printed  page,  but  the  spoken 
word  for  imparting  his  instruction,  or  the  chanted 
hexameter;  still  his  whole  Odyssey  takes  the  form 
of  a  school-book  for  the  training  of  a  pupil,  in 
which  work  the  teacher  shows  himself  certainly  the 
most  poetical  of  all  schoolmasters.  Hence  too  very 
naturally  follows  his  final  deed  of  opening  an  Ho- 
meric institute  at  Chios  for  teaching  his  young  Ho- 
merids  his  two  songs  of  Troy. 

Very  evident,  then,  it  becomes  that  the  poet  has 
a  lesson  to  impart  in  his  Odyssey,  which  is  not  writ- 
ten merely  to  give  pleasure,  or  to  indulge  in  beau- 
tiful art  for  art's  sake;  it  has  an  educative  object 
which  seeks  to  train  its  youth,  and  also  a  remedial 
purpose  to  rescue  its  hero  and  his  people  from  the 
deadly  repercussion  which  follows  every  long  and 


clxiv  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

desperate  war,  and  which  smites  spiritually  even 
those  who  bring  home  glorious  victory.  This  phase 
of  the  Odyssey,  very  pronounced  to  its  watchful 
reader,  ought  to  have  its  deepest  appeal  just  to-day, 
when  the  nations,  especially  the  victorious  nations, 
are  trying  to  get  back  from  their  World- War,  but 
somehow  cannot  accomplish  this  grand  Ulyssean 
adventure.  Even  we  in  America,  for  whom  the  task 
ought  to  be  the  easiest,  are  as  yet  wholly  unable 
to  restore  ourselves  to  what  has  been  called  nor- 
malcy, to  our  established  social  and  institutional 
order.  To  be  sure,  outwardly  we  have  returned 
from  Europe,  from  our  destroyed  Troy,  if  you  will  ; 
but  the  inner  return  or  spiritual  restoration  is  yet 
to  come.  Our  American  Ulysses  may  still  have  to 
wander  his  ten  years,  meeting  and  passing  through 
many  tempests  and  temptations  of  the  Ocean, 
wrestling  with  and  overcoming  the  huge  giants 
along  the  path  of  his  voyage,  the  hostile  Lestri- 
gonians,  having  to  face  and  to  put  down  one-eyed 
hideous  Polyphemus  the  anarchist,  the  atheist,  the 
cannibal,  not  to  speak  of  the  more  insidious,  but 
equally  destructive  charms  of  Calypso  and  of  Circe. 
So  the  world  may  be  said  just  now  to  be  engaged 
in  the  Return  of  Ulysses,  desperately  struggling  in 
the  midst  of  what  seems  its  worst  crisis.  Will  he 
pull  through,  after  destroying  his  destroyers,  and 
finally  reach  ''sunny  Ithaca  and  prudent  Pe- 
nelope"? The  Odyssey  holds  before  us  such  an 
outlook,  hence  it  can  well  be  deemed  a  Great  Book 
of  Hope  not  only  for  its  own  Greek  time,  but  like- 


THE  HOMERIC  RETURN  clxv 

wise  for  our  time,  and  for  all  time,  veritably  a 
Bible  sent  to  the  whole  human  race.  Homer  has 
composed  it  for  us  and  also  for  himself,  having 
poured  into  it  his  own  deepest  experiences  of  life, 
which  he  passed  through  after  his  war-song  of  the 
Iliad. 

But  we  must  remember  that  Ulysses  is  only  one 
of  these  Greek  Returners  whose  fates  constitute  the 
main  theme  of  his  poem.  Noteworthy  is  the  fact 
that  the  poet  has  set  forth  in  considerable  detail 
and  with  deep  sympathy  the  characters  of  three 
successful  Returners,  not  to  mention  now  those 
whom  he  represents  as  perishing  on  the  way.  He 
evidently  regarded  these  three  cases  as  typical  of 
the  entire  Hellenic  host  in  its  sweep  homeward  out 
of  its  grand  separation  and  estrangement.  As  Ho- 
mer may  be  here  glimpsed  in  his  workshop  portray- 
ing and  arranging  in  due  order  his  heroes,  we  shall 
mark  his  procedure. 

(1)  The  Return  of  Nestor  was  the  easiest,  least 
impeded  by  obstacles,  wholly  favored  of  the  Gods 
with  whom  he  kept  himself  in  harmony  through 
his  religiosity.  No  storm  overtook  him  on  the  sea 
and  scattered  his  ships;  and  when  he  reached  his 
home  in  sandy  Pylos,  he  found  it  quite  as  he  had 
left  it — ^no  suitors,  no  revolution,  no  inner  spiritual 
alienation  in  his  people  or  in  himself.  Thus  Nestor 
represents  the  Return  to  the  more  innocent,  idyllic, 
pre-Trojan  time,  without  the  profound  question- 
ings and  upsettings  caused  by  the  World-War. 
This  early  stage  of  Hellas,  upon  which  many  years 


Clxvi  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

before  had  fallen  the  grand  disruption  of  the  age 
and  its  struggle  with  the  Orient,  Telemachus  is  now 
to  see  and  to  assimilate  as  the  first  lesson  in  his 
education.  The  poet  has  told  it  with  amplitude  and 
tenderness  in  the  Third  Book  of  his  poem.  (The 
reader  will  find  the  foregoing  points  set  forth  more 
fully  in  our  Commentary  on  the  Odyssey.) 

(2)  The  second  grand  Returner  whom  Homer 
paints  in  larger  outline  and  with  a  philosophic  pro- 
fundity, though  still  poetic  in  form,  is  king  Mene- 
laus,  whom  student  Telemachus  likewise  visits  in 
the  royal  shining  palace  of  Sparta,  where  he  also 
looks  upon  and  hears  the  beautiful,  errant,  but  now 
restored  Helen,  the  ostensible  cause  of  that  old 
World-War.  (See  this  striking  account  in  that 
most  suggestive  Fourth  Book  of  the  Odyssey.) 
Menelaus,  however,  did  not  come  directly  home ;  he 
had  to  return  by  way  of  the  East  and  Egypt, 
where  he  receives  the  message  of  Proteus,  the  Old 
Man  of  the  Sea,  the  deepest-thoughted  utterance  of 
the  whole  poem,  and  still  to-day  in  use  poetically 
and  symbolically.  (Cited  on  a  former  page.)  Still 
Menelaus  is  not  the  universal  Returner,  at  least  not 
practically,  though  he  hears  theoretically  from 
Egyptian  Proteus  "the  Truth  as  it  is  in  itself*'. 
So  there  is  needed  another  greater,  more  all-inclu- 
sive Returner  than  Menelaus. 

(3)  This  is  our  third  Returner,  the  heroic 
truly  universal  one,  Ulysses  son  of  Laertes,  the 
most  comprehensive  soul  of  the  whole  Greek  world. 
For  he  is  not  only  the  doer  but  the  recorder  or  the 


HOMER'S    THREE   POETS  clxvii 

singer  of  his  own  Greatest  Deed;  he  has  not  only 
Will  the  actor,  but  Mind  the  seer,  yea  the  self- 
seer,  and  also  the  self-revealer.  Hence  in  Ulysses 
we  can  trace  the  poet  looking  at  and  telling  about 
himself  and  his  art  more  fully  than  in  any  other 
character.  In  fact  the  Odyssey  has  a  special  per- 
sonage whose  vocation  is  that  of  the  poet,  and  whose 
function  may  be  said  to  represent  Homer  in  Homer 
—the  poet's  self  in  the  poet's  work.  A  very  sug- 
gestive life-line  of  the  supreme  singer  will  appear 
accordingly,  when  we  listen  to  him  as  he  poetizes 
his  own  guild  of  fellow-craftsmen  chanting  their 
lays  before  the  hearkening  folk. 

II. 

Homer's  Three  Poets. 

A  significant  phase  of  Homer  ^s  own  biography  is 
to  be  traced  in  what  he  says  of  the  three  poets 
whom  he  introduces  by  name  singing  their  strains 
in  the  Odyssey — Phemius,  Demodocus,  Ulysses. 
This  Ulyssean  song  (Odyssey  Books  IX-XII)  he 
adopts  and  interweaves  as  an  integral  part  of  his 
own  poem,  while  in  the  other  two  cases  he  gives 
hardly  more  than  their  themes.  Thus  the  lay  of 
Ulysses  he  incorporates  into  his  complete  epos,  of 
which  it  is  but  one  large  and  very  unique  constitu- 
ent or  member,  he  being  the  fourth  poet  including 
all  the  rest  and  much  else.  Thus  he  brings  to  the 
fore  in  the  Odyssey  his  own  fellow-singers,  of  whom 
he  seems  so  forgetful  in  the  Iliad. 


Clxviii  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

The  twin  sovereign  poems  of  Homer  differ  from 
each  other  at  certain  cardinal  points,  which  differ- 
ences, however,  will  be  found  to  spring  from  one 
and  the  same  personality  in  its  two  most  distinctive 
periods  of  development.  At  present  it  is  to  be  em»- 
phasized  that  the  poet  in  his  second  poem,  the 
Odyssey,  sketches  the  outlines  of  his  own  spiritual 
portrait  as  the  singing  creator  of  his  song.  Hence 
we  are  led  to  construe  some  leading  lineaments  of 
Homer's  own  poetic  biography  from  what  he  as- 
signs to  the  bards,  his  fellow  guildsmen,  in  the 
Odyssey. 

Now  this  his  later  work  brings  repeatedly  into 
prominent  notice  the  public  singer,  minstrel,  bard 
{aoidos).  Thus  we  catch  Homer  glorifying  his 
own  office  by  introducing  and  celebrating  with 
honor  his  special  vocation  and  professional  place  in 
the  community.  The  Iliad  has  very  small  mention 
of  such  a  character  or  calling;  from  this  fact  we 
are  brought  to  infer  that  the  poet  has  become  more 
self-regarding  or  introverted  of  mind  in  his  last 
poem — more  subjective  it  may  be  designated  after 
a  somewhat  modern  wording.  In  this  example  as 
in  numerous  others,  we  may  well  feel  that  the 
Odyssey  touches  a  much  deeper,  more  internal 
strain  of  self -experience  than  the  Iliad. 

Such  a  new  psychical  trait  of  the  poet  we  are  to 
see  flowing  out  of  the  Return,  and  attuned  in  har- 
mony with  the  same  at  its  source.  For  this  Re- 
turn of  Ulysses  is  not  merely  outward  but  inward, 
not  merely  geographic  but  mental,  not  in  space  so 


HOMER'S    THREE   POETS  clxix 

much  as  in  spirit.  Indeed  Homer's  geography  gets 
confused  and  quite  untraceable,  while,  his  mind 
runs  clear  and  free  of  all  limited  place  and  dura- 
tion. He  now  must  be  observed  turning  back  upon 
himself  and  portraying  his  inner  evolution ;  such  is 
in  truth  the  larger,  profounder,  more  universal  side 
of  this  Return  (Nostos)  of  Ulysses  to  his  former 
Ithacan  world — to  his  home  and  country,  from 
which  he  once  had  to  separate  and  to  march  forth 
to  the  Trojan  War.  But  now  there  has  risen  upon 
his  life 's  path  a  new  foe :  he,  having  battled  with 
and  put  down  the  external  Troy,  finds  himself  in- 
volved in  a  second  Trojan  War,  quite  opposite  to 
that  first  one,  for  he  has  to  battle  with  and  put 
down  his  own  internal  Troy,  whose  citadel  or  line 
of  citadels  stand  in  the  way  of  his  restoration  and 
recovery,  and  so  of  his  complete  Return.  Whereof 
the  new,  more  devious  and  labyrinthine  complex  of 
his  life-lines  is  ordered  and  attuned  to  a  song. 

Hence  in  this  fresh  field  of  his  self-experience 
and  self  revelation  we  shall  follow  the  poet  giving 
his  record  of  the  Odyssey's  poets,  that  is,  of  him- 
self in  his  various  poetic  stages.  Of  these  stages 
we  shall  here  set  down  in  order  the  three  main  ones, 
which  are  fortunately  represented  in  the  Odyssey 
by  three  different  singers  or  bards,  who  are  in  each 
case  creations  and  indeed  utterances  and  personal 
projections  of  the  one  superlative,  all-including 
genius  of  Homer. 

The  three  singing  characters  to  whom  the  poet 
imparts  his  own  gift  of  song  in  the  course  of  his 


Clxx  HOMER'H  LIFE-LINES 

poem  are  the  bards  Phemius,  Demodocus,  and 
Ulysses.  Of  course  the  latter  is  also  the  hero  of 
the  whole  action,  still  to  him  in  person  is  signifi- 
cantly assigned  the  most  original  bardic  strain  in 
the  work. 

I.  Phemius.  Such  is  the  name  of  the  Ithaean 
balladist  or  bard,  who  is  mentioned  early  in  the 
poem  (I,  152)  as  having  to  ''sing  for  the  suitors  of 
Penelope  by  compulsion".  Somewhat  further  on 
in  the  same  Book  (I.  315)  Phemius  with  his  song 
becomes  the  center  of  a  spirited  scene  like  a  little 
drama.  The  bard  was  singing  ''the  sad  return  of 
the  Achaeans  from  Troy",  while  the  Suitors  sat 
around  and  listened  with  silent  pleasure,  for  the 
subject  hinted  to  them  the  probable  fate  of  the  Re- 
turner Ulysses  in  which  they  had  their  chief  in- 
terest. 

But  such  a  strain  was  anything  but  agreeable  to 
the  long-waiting  anxious  wife  Penelope  who  de- 
scended from  her  chamber  in  tears  and  reproved 
the  singer :  "0  Phemius,  cease  this  painful  strain 
which  rends  the  heart  in  my  breast ;  thou  knowest 
many  other  delightful  songs  praising  the  deeds  of 
Heroes  and  Gods  which  minstrels  are  wont  to 
sing."  Thus  Penelope  remanded  the  singer  to  his 
old  accustomed  lays,  evidently  like  those  of  the 
Iliad. 

But  who  should  come  to  the  bard's  defence  but 
her  son  Telemachus  in  keen  reply:  *'0  mother, 
stop  not  the  inspired  minstrel  from  singing  as  the 
spirit  urges  him;  and  men  applaud  more  the  song 


HOMER'S    THREE   POETS  clxxi 

which  is  newest,"  which  now  is  that  of  the  Return 
from  Troy  not  yet  wholly  ended.  Very  suggestive 
is  this  distinction  between  the  older  strains  of  the 
Iliad  and  the  latest  ones  of  the  Odyssey  just  here 
in  the  heat  of  the  making.  Thus  we  may  catch  a 
glimpse  of  Homer  himself  speaking  his  view  of  his 
art  in  the  person  of  his  representative. 

Still  more  impressive  is  the  last  scene  in  which 
Phemius  appears,  being  present  at  the  tragic  time 
of  reckoning  when  Ulysses,  who  has  now  reached 
home,  is  serving  up  to  the  guilty  the  consequences 
of  their  evil  deeds.  (Book  XXII,  330.)  The  bard 
who  had  so  long  entertained  with  his  strains  the 
iniquitous  suitors,  springs  to  the  knees  of  the  mad- 
dened avenger  and  supplicates :  ' '  0  Ulysses,  have 
mercy:  it  will  be  a  grief  to  thee  hereafter  if  thou 
slayest  me  who  am  a  minstrel  and  sing  the  lays  of 
Gods  and  Men.  I  am  the  self-taught  poet,  and  the 
God  has  inspired  me  with  many  kinds  of  songs. 
Now  I  am  singing  to  thee  as  a  God :  be  merciful. ' ' 
Whereupon  Telemachus  intercedes  for  him  ''the 
blameless  man",  since  he  was  compelled  "by  su- 
perior strength"  to  give  of  his  art  to  the  wicked. 

In  the  foregoing  extract  we  again  catch  the 
poet  giving  glimpses  of  himself  and  of  his  vocation. 
Phemius  claims  a  kind  of  sacred  right  for  his  per- 
son as  the  singer  before  Gods  and  Men.  Then  he 
must  be  both  Self -moved  and  God-moved,  inspired 
within  and  also  from  above.  Finally  Phemius 
seems  to  promise  to  sing  the  divine  lay  of  Ulysses, 
or  this  Odyssey,  if  such  be  the  meaning  of  his 


Clxxii  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

rather  uncertain  phrase.  At  any  rate  we  here  ob- 
serve the  bard  taking  a  look  at  himself,  and  telling 
somewhat  of  his  poetic  prerogative.  Tuneful  Phe- 
mius,  however,  sang  of  the  present,  of  the  Return 
now  taking  place,  though  he  knew  the  old  lays  too. 
But  another  poet  of  a  diverse  character  is  brought 
in  to  celebrate  the  past. 

II.  Demodocus.  Homer  employs  a  new  bard  to 
sing  for  the  new  folk  the  Pheacians  (VI)  who  are 
very  different  from  the  foregoing  Ithacans  (Books 
I-IV),  indeed  quite  a  distinct  people  with  its  own 
life  and  consciousness.  Still  these  idealized  Phea- 
cians were  Greeks,  spoke  the  Greek  tongue,  wor- 
shiped the  Greek  Gods,  and  participated  especially 
in  the  Greek  Mythus  of  Troy  with  its  grand  na- 
tional conflict,  which  filled  their  poetic  horizon. 
They  know  as  yet  nothing  of  the  Return,  of  which 
they  are  soon  to  hear  in  its  deepest  phase  through 
the  great  Returner  himself. 

In  the  meantime  the  local  Pheacian  bard,  Demo- 
docus, is  to  be  brought  forward  and  shown  in  the 
full  range  of  his  song,  which  he  chants  in  three  sep- 
arate cantos,  constituting  the  main  thread  of  an 
entire  Book  of  the  poem  (VIII).  Hence  this  may 
well  be  called  the  Book  of  the  Bard,  since  he  is  now 
the  central  character  of  those  Pheacian  scenes. 
Particularly  noticeable  is  the  fact  that  all  three 
songs  of  the  minstrel  take  their  themes  from  the 
Trojan  War  now  past  and  far-away.  Moreover 
they  hover  about  the  Iliad,  though  no  special  event 
or  deed  of  that  older  poem  is  here  repeated  by  the 


HOMER'S   THREE   POETS  clxxiii 

singer.  But  its  heroes  and  Gods  appear  again, 
though  the  circumstances  are  new.  Demodocus  is, 
therefore,  the  traditional  poet  of  the  ancient  God- 
world  and  of  its  heroic  shapes,  though  he  clothes  it 
in  fresh  garments.  Not  a  great  original  poet  or 
singing  world-maker,  he  really  is  repeating  the 
Iliad 's  old  environment,  giving  to  its  antique  forms 
some  new  turns  and  incidents. 

Thus  we  catch  Homer  outlining  a  former  stage 
of  himself  and  of  his  poetry  here  repeated  in  the 
bard  Demodocus,  who  is  an  echo  in  all  his  three 
cantos,  of  the  transmitted  Iliad,  to  be  sure  with  an 
order  and  presentation  of  his  own.  Still  he  gives 
no  scene  directly  out  of  the  Iliad,  but  he  takes  one 
of  the  Pre-Iliad  and  one  of  the  Post-Iliad,  between 
which  he  inserts  a  wild  burlesque  of  the  two  anti- 
Hellenic  Gods,  Mars  and  Venus,  both  of  whom  are 
conquered  in  combat  by  Diomed  in  the  same  Book 
of  the  Iliad  (V).  He  evidently  avoids  any  treat- 
ment of  well  known  Homeric  scenes,  for  that  would 
be  mere  imitation;  still  his  background  is  Troy, 
wherein  he  reflects  the  Greek  poetic  consciousness 
as  first  expressed  and  indeed  fully  created  in  the 
Iliad. 

Thus  Homer  as  Ulysses  is  made  to  listen  to  his 
former  self's  poetry,  and  very  naturally  rewards 
the  singer  with  a  stupendous  compliment:  ''De- 
modocus, I  praise  thee  above  all  mortals ;  either  the 
Muse  or  Apollo  has  taught  thee,  so  well  dost  thou 
sing  the  fate  of  the  Greeks. ' '  Doubtless  all  poets 
love  to  hear  their  own  former  songs  in  new  guise, 


clxxiv  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

or  listen  to  themselves  eternally  reproducing  and 
reproduced,  which  songs  at  least  manifest  fresh 
forms  of  their  art.  Accordingly  Homer  through 
Ulysses  begs  the  loftily  lauded  Pheacian  minstrel  to 
sing  the  culminating  lay  of  the  Wooden  Horse  with 
the  final  capture  of  Troy,  which  w^as  the  grand  tri- 
umph of  Mind  in  the  Trojan  War.  Ulysses,  hith- 
erto disguising  himself  in  that  unsophisticated 
Pheacian  world,  has  now  to  reveal  himself  as  the 
real  hero  of  the  Fall  of  Troy,  and  therefore  greater 
than  Achilles  or  Agamemnon.  Hence  the  Odyssey 
acclaims  him  (in  its  first  sentence)  as  ''the  man 
who  sacked  the  sacred  burg  of  Troy. ' ' 

III.  Ulysses.  Not  now  the  active  Greek  hero  in 
war,  or  the  wandering  much-enduring  Returner 
over  the  sea,  but  the  original  singer,  the  poet: 
wherein  Homer,  serving  up  a  mighty  surprise,  en- 
dows his  chief  character  with  his  own  vocation,  as 
if  that  was  the  apex  of  human  heroic  attainment. 
First  may  be  noticed  that  Ulysses  as  the  new  bard 
is  not  localized  in  song,  is  not  an  Ithacan  minstrel 
like  Phemius  or  a  Pheacian  singer  like  Demodocus ; 
he  goes  from  land  to  land,  winning  all  sorts  of  ex- 
perience, the  daringly  unconfined,  the  universal 
poet.  Moreover  he  cuts  loose  from  the  Trojan  back- 
ground, which  was  common  to  both  the  foregoing 
bards,  though  they  employed  it  in  different  ways. 
But  now  Homer  makes  his  oncoming  poet  Ulysses 
drop  the  Mythus  of  Troy,  hitherto  his  one  supreme 
prolific  theme  of  song,  and  to  create  another  wholly 
different  mythical  setting  for  his  lay.    That  is,  Ho- 


HOMER'S    THREE   POETS  clxxv 

mer  as  the  singing  Ulysses  makes  a  new  Mythology 
quite  diverse  from,  if  not  opposite  to  that  of  the 
Olympian  world,  which  dominates  his  Iliad  and  its 
Trojan  conflict. 

This  cardinal  change  of  the  poet  and  of  his 
poetry  is  set  forth  in  a  lengthy  episode  of  the  Odys- 
sey embracing  four  entire  Books.  (IX,  X,  XI,  XII.) 
The  singer  now  announces  himself  by  name  (IX, 
19)  as  the  subject  of  his  own  song:  ''I  am  Ulys- 
ses, son  of  Laertes. ' '  Thus  the  Homeric  Ego  leaps 
out  and  starts  to  heroize  itself  in  a  new  strain 
which  chants  its  own  adventures  inwardly  though 
projected  outwardly  into  strange  and  for  the  most 
part  dehumanized  shapes.  (This  wonderland  of 
fabulous  forms  is  the  most  suggestive  and  pro- 
phetic, hence  the  most  difficult  part  of  the  Odyssey, 
requiring  for  its  right  comprehension  a  peculiar 
sort  of  study  and  mental  outfit  not  much  in  vogue 
hitherto  among  Homer's  philological  and  literary 
expounders.  Those  who  wish  to  see  the  present  au- 
thor 's  view,  can  find  these  four  Books  specially  or- 
ganized, interpreted,  and  integrated  with  the  entire 
poem  in  his  Commentary  on  the  Odyssey,  pp  231- 
395.) 

Thus  Homer  the  poet  takes  his  many-minded 
hero  Ulysses  of  the  Trojan  Mythus,  and  sublimates 
him  into  the  poet  of  a  new  mythological  order  of 
beings  who  dwell  in  their  own  distinctive  world.  It 
is  evident  that  these  three  bards,  Phemius,  Demo- 
docus,  and  Ulysses — the  Ithacan,  the  Pheacian,  and 
the  Wanderer — follow  one  another  in  ascending 


Clxxvi  HOMER'8  LIFE-LINES 

stages,  which  represent  Homer's  own  poetic  evolu- 
tion, as  he  looks  back  at  it  from  the  height  of  life 's 
long  discipline.  Polyphemus,  the  Lestrygonians, 
the  Sirens,  Scylla  and  Charybdis  are  no  longer 
sunny  Olympians  of  the  Overworld,  but  dark  de- 
monic, yea  monstrous  shapes  of  the  Underworld 
which  the  poet  has  now  to  meet  and  to  master,  finally 
building  his  grand  fresh  experience  into  his  poem. 
Undoubtedly  the  crude  materials  of  this  new  poetic 
structure  he  found  floating  in  scattered  tales  which 
bubble  up  everywhere  from  the  folk-soul,  and 
which  are  found  among  all  peoples  around  the 
globe.  But  Homer  has  collected,  ordered,  and 
transfigured  these  early  materials,  more  primitive 
indeed  than  the  Trojan  My  thus,  into  the  eternal 
temple  of  song  indwelt  of  his  creative  genius. 

Worthy  of  notice  in  this  connection  is  what  the 
swineherd  Eumaeus  says  concerning  the  charm  of 
the  words  of  Ulysses,  when  the  latter  recounts 
the  tale  of  his  adventures:  ''He  is  like  unto  a 
singer  whom  the  Gods  have  taught  to  sing  strains 
of  weal  and  woe  to  listening  mortals,  who  have  a 
never-failing  desire  to  hear  his  song.''  (Odyssey 
XVII,  518.)  Thus  his  trials  and  sufferings  have 
made  Ulysses  a  poet,  for  no  such  faculty  does  he 
show  in  the  Iliad,  but  rather  the  reverse,  being 
there  the  man  of  solid  understanding  more  than 
of  far-flying  imagination.  But  now  Homer  seems 
to  have  transformed  his  previous  rather  prosaic 
sober-thoughted  hero  into  his  uniquely  fantasy- 
gifted  minstrel,  assigning  to  the  same  on  the  whole 


HOMER'S   THREE  POETS  clxxvii 

the  most  original  and  imaginative  portion  of  all  his 
poetry.  Thus  the  poet  unfolds  and  evolves  his 
many-minded  Ulysses  into  a  poet,  that  is,  into  him- 
self as  the  culmination  of  his  heroic  career.  After 
performing  many  famous  deeds,  and  passing 
through  many  wonderful  experiences,  he  turns 
back  upon  himself  and  builds  his  long  discipline 
into  a  poem  which  is  as  much  transformed  from 
the  old  Trojan  My  thus,  as  he  is  from  his  old  Tro- 
jan Self.  Far  longer  drawn-out  but  far  less  sig- 
nificant is  the  external  contest  of  Ulysses  with  the 
Suitors  in  his  Ithacan  home,  so  that  the  last  half  of 
the  Odyssey  seems  in  form,  style  and  expansion  a 
foreshow  of  the  discursive  modern  novel. 

The  voyage  to  wonderland  is,  however,  but  one 
stage  of  the  total  biography  of  the  Homeric  Ulys- 
ses, who  has  had  already  a  memorable  career  in  the 
Trojan  War,  and  who  is  still  to  perform  fresh  mar- 
velous feats  of  mind  and  of  valor  in  winning  back 
for  himself  ' '  sunny  Ithaca  and  prudent  Penelope ' '. 
Then  we  are  not  to  forget  that  besides  these  three 
poets  so  prominently  named  and  signalized  in  the 
Odyssey,  there  is  the  fourth  poet,  their  maker,  Ho- 
mer himself,  of  whose  grand  totality  of  poetic  crea- 
tion they  are  but  passing  musical  fragments. 

III. 

The  Homeric  Fate-Compeller. 

Already  a  number  of  significant  differences  be- 
tween the  Odyssey  and  its  forerunner  the  Iliad 


clxxviii  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

have  been  pointed  out,  which,  taken  in  succession, 
show  a  pronounced  psychological  deepening  of 
their  author.  The  very  fact  that  the  Achillean 
Homer  confines  himself  to  one  locality,  to  one 
city,  to  one  set  of  circumstances,  indicates  a  cer- 
tain fixity  like  fate  both  in  his  spirit  and  in  his 
poem.  On  the  other  hand  the  very  fact  that  the 
Ulyssean  Homer  breaks  away  from  the  one  locality, 
from  the  one  city  with  its  set  traditional  environ- 
ment, and  begins  to  wander  over  the  border  beyond 
and  beyond  to  many  cities  and  peoples,  suggests  an 
act  of  fresh  independence  and  liberation  from  the 
past — an  assertion  of  freedom,  at  least  in  its  first 
outward  thrust.  Thus  the  wont-transcending  poet 
untethers  himself  from  his  local  ties,  and  makes  a 
lurch  for  a  greater  liberty. 

Now  this  release  is  not  only  spatial  but  also  spir- 
itual. Far-sighted  Homer  must  have  foreseen,  or 
at  least  forefelt  that  Oriental  menace  which  over- 
hung the  Greek  world  in  Asia.  We  may  well  think 
that  he,  the  seer,  had  the  prevision  to  behold  his 
adopted  city  of  Smyrna  couched  in  the  very  jaws 
of  the  ever-returning  conflict  between  Hellas  and 
the  Orient,  so  that  she  might  at  any  time  be 
crunched  to  death  in  their  clash.  Homer's  foresight 
thousands  of  years  ago  is  strangely  suggested, 
and  fearfully  confirmed,  yea  flaringly  illumined 
by  today's  burning  Smyrna  which  the  Turks 
have  just  captured  (September  1922),  and  seem- 
ingly handed  over  to  final  conflagration.  Through 
these  flames  we  may  read  another  new,  indeed  the 


THE  HOMERIC  FATE-COMPELLER  elxxix 

very  latest  commentary  on  the  ancient  poet,  who 
fled  from  that  fated  world  back  to  his  Western 
European  Greece,  as  thousands  are  seeking  to  flee 
this  minute  by  every  steamer  across  the  Egean. 

But  the  supreme  result  of  Homer's  flight  from 
Smyrna,  which  became  also  the  Return  of  his 
Ulysses  homeward,  was  the  enduring  poetic  record 
of  his  wanderings,  or  of  his  spirit's  new  strides  of 
emancipation.  Thus  Homer  unfated  himself,  as  al- 
ready said,  and  the  process  thereof  is  sung  in  the 
Odyssey.  On  the  other  hand  through  the  Iliad 
runs  a  strain  of  fatedness,  which  we  hear  from 
both  the  Trojan  and  the  Greek  heroes,  especially 
from  Hector  and  Achilles,  each  of  whom  foreknows 
and  foretells  his  own  tragic  destiny.  Herein  we 
note  a  marked  evolution  in  the  man  and  in  his 
works.  For  Homer  shows  himself  more  or  less  of 
a  fatalist  in  his  Iliad,  which  so  often  forecasts  the 
coming  doom  of  the  individual  and  of  the  city.  But 
the  Odyssey  takes  its  chief  delight  and  wins  its 
deepest  worth  in  portraying  how  its  hero  counter- 
vails the  insidious  toils  which  the  cunning  Fates 
spin  to  catch  the  much-enduring,  many-minded 
Ulysses,  who  shows  himself  still  more  cunning  than 
they  are.  For  he  thwarts  all  the  lures  and  snares,' 
outer  and  inner,  which  are  laid  to  catch  him,  and 
successfully  reaches  wife  and  country,  becoming 
veritably  the  grand  Homeric  Fate-compeller,  who 
is  in  fact  none  other  than  the  poet  himself. 

Thus  the  reader  is  to  find  and  to  treasure  up  the 
basic  life-thought  that  Homer  celebrates  his  hero's 


clxxx  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

realisation  of  freedom  as  the  ultimate  triumph  and 
conclusion  of  his  song.  The  end  of  the  Odyssey, 
accordingly,  brings  the  peace  which  is  to  be  last- 
ing, though  won  after  many  severe  conflicts,  some 
of  which  have  been  bloody.  Herein  also  lies  a  con- 
trast with  the  Iliad,  which  winds  up  fitfully  in  a 
truce  soon  to  be  broken.  And  from  that  olden  time 
till  to-day,  no  permanent  peace  but  only  a  tempo- 
rary cessation  of  warfare  has  existed  between  Troy 
and  Hellas,  or  between  the  Orient  and  Europe. 
The  two  sides  at  this  moment  are  trying  to  patch 
up  a  sort  of  armistice,  as  did  ancient  Achilles 
with  Priam  when  he  ransoms  the  latter 's  dead  son 
Hector.  Thus  the  Iliad  concludes  with  the  peace 
and  reconciliation  of  the  two  supreme  world-foes, 
Europe  and  Asia;  and  so  the  earliest  poet,  our 
Homer,  sings  at  the  close  of  his  poem  an  ideal  of 
national  pacification  which  has  remained  unreal- 
ized to  this  day,  and  seems  at  present  farther  off 
than  ever. 

But  coming  back  to  that  strain  in  the  Odyssey 
which  we  have  called  Fate-compelling,  let  us  cite 
ssome  leading  indications.  First  we  begin  with  the 
highest,  namely  the  supreme  God,  Zeus  himself, 
who  in  his  opening  speech  strikes  the  difference 
between  what  he  is  now  in  the  Odyssey  and  what 
he  was  once  in  the  Iliad. 

I.  It  would  seem  to  the  Ulyssean  Homer  that 
mortals  in  the  present  reaction  have  taken  to  crit- 
icising the  Gods,  being  dissatisfied  with  the  way 
in  which  divinity  has  conducted  itself,  evidently 


THE  HOMERIC  FATE-COMPELLER     clxxxi 

as  such  conduct  is  presented  in  the  Iliad.  For 
even  supreme  Zeus  has  felt  the  sting  of  reproach, 
since  he  cries  out:  ''0  the  audacity!  what  blame 
mortals  are  now  heaping  upon  us  Gods,  for  they 
say  that  we  are  the  source  of  their  ills,  whereas 
by  their  own  follies  they  have  sufferings  beyond 
what  is  ordained/'  (Odyssey  I,  32.)  Zeus  cites 
as  the  most  recent  instance  of  such  wrongful  cen- 
sure of  the  Gods  the  post-Trojan  case  of  Aegisthus 
who  received  due  warning  from  above  against  his 
wicked  deed.  But  the  statement  of  Zeus  is  far 
more  general  than  that,  and  must  include  the  Tro- 
jan War,  the  cause  of  which  is  being  ascribed  by 
men  to  the  Olympians.  The  same  question  has 
come  up  to-day  in  this  form:  Is  not  God  to  blame 
for  the  recent  World- War?  Has  not  Christianity 
with  its  doctrine  of  universal  love  signally  failed? 
Providence  has  turned  out  a  delusive  dream,  more 
fatal  than  Agamemnon's. 

Thus  we  find,  in  this  later  and  somewhat  re-ac- 
tionary  Odyssey,  that  the  first  World- War  has 
called  up  a  mighty  challenge  of  the  existent  reli- 
gion quite  similar  to  that  which  the  last  World- 
War  is  evoking  over  all  the  earth  just  now.  So 
Zeus  deems  it  necessary  to  answer  from  his  lofty 
Olympian  throne  down  to  his  reproachful  man- 
kind: ''Through  your  own  deeds  ye  suffer, 
through  your  own  freedom — I  am  not  responsible. 
So  take  the  consequences  of  your  beloved  liberty." 

Such  is  at  present  the  decree  of  the  Highest 
Greek  God,  quite  different  from  any  we  ever  heard 


clxxxii  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

from  him  in  the  Iliad.  It  indicates  a  decidedly- 
new  evolution  of  Homeric  theology,  whose  divine 
mouthpiece  now  so  threateningly  asserts  man's 
accountability  and  freedom.  Still  Olympus  is 
present  and  even  at  work,  though  distant  in  the 
background  of  the  Odyssey,  showing  far  less  inter- 
ference with  human  affairs  than  was  its  wont  at 
Troy.  Man  in  the  new  poem  has  become  more  self- 
determined  and  less  God-determined  and  less  Fate- 
determined,  and  so  has  his  poet.  In  fact  a  new 
set  of  supernatural  Powers  has  to  a  degree  taken 
the  place  of  the  Iliad's  Olympians,  though  still 
within  the  Olympian  order.  Ulysses  will  have  to 
meet  them  face  to  face,  and  overcome  them  in  his 
wonderland  of  adventures.  (Odyssey,  Books  IX- 
XII.) 

II.  This  new  turn  from  above  down  toward  the 
man  individual,  toward  the  me  or  Ego,  is  indi- 
cated in  the  beginning  line  of  the  Odyssey,  whose 
second  word  is  the  heretofore  unheard  first  per- 
sonal pronoun  (moi).  Thus  the  poet  now  insists 
that  the  inspiration  of  the  ]\Iuse  is  to  pass  to  and 
through  him  in  order  that  he  sing  worthily  the 
hero.  Moreover  the  verb  here  (ennepe)  has  a 
touch  which  should  always  be  felt  by  the  penetrat- 
ing reader,  for  it  commands:  **Tell  to  me  within 
(en),  0  Muse,  the  man."  That  is,  the  internality 
of  the  poetic  process  in  the  poet  himself  is  here 
stressed  by  that  little  preposition  {en)  as  never 
before.  Contrast  with  this  the  first  line  of  the 
Iliad  which  invokes:  "Sing  0  Goddess  the  wrath*' 


THE  HOMERIC  FATE-COMPELLER     clxxxiii 

of  the  hero,  as  if  the  song  fell  direct  from  the 
Muse,  the  poet's  part  in  his  own  poem  being  left 
out.  This  difference  accords  with  what  has  been 
already  noticed  in  the  Odyssey:  the  new  prom- 
inence given  to  the  high  vocation  of  its  singers,  as 
well  as  the  special  self-assertion  of  our  singing 
Homer's  own  personality. 

Thus  more  introspective,  subjective,  psycholog- 
ical the  Odyssey  shows  itself  at  the  first  push  into 
being  than  the  Iliad,  and  therein  signifies  a  deep- 
ening of  the  poet's  self-consciousness  which  has 
come  with  the  advance  of  his  years.  In  this  con- 
nection we  may  cite  the  situation  at  the  Phaeacian 
court  when  the  Homeric  Ulysses  (or  the  Ulyssean 
Homer)  tells  who  he  is,  giving  his  own  name,  char- 
acter and  origin.  Moreover  he  begins  to  sing  of 
himself  and  of  his  adventures,  thus  becoming  the 
poet  of  his  own  biography  even  if  mythically  dis- 
guised. His  internal  heroic  life  is  now  unfolded 
before  us,  not  that  external  heroic  deed  at  Troy, 
which  is  a  right  theme  for  his  former  self,  and  for 
a  Demodocus.  A  self-conscious  art  is  here  evolv- 
ing in  the  poet  who  expresses  the  manifold  trials 
of  his  spirit  on  returning  home,  whereby  he  is  get- 
ting restored  from  that  long,  fluctuating  Trojan 
World-War. 

In  like  manner  there  is  a  gleam  of  his  present 
tendency  to  self-revelation  when  he  announces  his 
name  and  his  fame  to  the  giant  Polyphemus  who 
at  once  recognizes  his  foretold  conqueror.  And 
the  derivation  of  his  name  from  an  inner  personal 


Clxxxiv  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

quality  (XIX,  407),  even  if  fanciful,  shows  him 
at  least  looking  inward  and  describing  himself. 

III.  Another  marked  difference  between  the 
Ulysses  of  the  Iliad  and  of  the  Odyssey  springs 
from  his  new  attitude  toward  women.  In  the  doings 
at  Troy,  he  manifests  none  of  that  sexually  pas- 
sional nature  which  there  breaks  out  into  the  fierce 
quarrel  between  Achilles  and  Agamemnon.  The 
modem  reader  never  forgets,  for  usually  it  gives 
him  somewhat  of  a  shock  that  in  the  very  first 
scene  of  the  Iliad  he  is  whelmed  into  a  furious  al- 
tercation between  the  Hero  and  the  Leader  over 
the  possession  of  two  female  captives.  The  effects 
of  that  strife  run  through  the  entire  poem  to  its 
close.  In  fact  the  whole  Trojan  War  was  about 
a  stolen  wife.  Now  Ulysses  takes  no  part  in  these 
troubles  over  the  women  of  the  Grecian  camp,  in 
which  there  must  have  been  not  a  few  enslaved 
from  the  neighboring  pillaged  towns;  he  has  no 
female  captive  in  his  tent,  whereof  any  record 
tells,  as  have  both  Achilles  and  Agamemnon.  He 
seems  still  the  family  man ;  more  than  once  in  the 
Iliad  he  recalls  his  infant  boy  Telemachus,  and 
the  memory  of  his  wonderful  young  wife  Penelope 
at  home  must  have  remained  fresh  and  active. 

Rather  is  he  the  cold  intellectual  unemotional 
man  of  that  Greek  host,  more  addicted  even  to 
forbidden  delights  of  the  mind  than  those  of  the 
senses.  Indeed  he  is  contrasted  with  Achilles  as 
the  hero  of  brain  more  than  of  brawn,  of  inner 
self-possession  and  not  of  volcanic  wrath.    So  it 


THE  HOMERIC  FATE-COMPELLER   clxxxv 

comes  that  finally  Troy  is  to  fall  not  through  the 
fighter  but  through  the  thinker,  who  is  Ulysses. 

Thus  far  for  the  Iliad.  Now  the  Odyssey  marks 
a  most  surprising  change  in  this  respect,  for  the 
dry  middle-aged  man,  the  sage  cool-headed  Ulysses 
therein  shows  himself  quite  susceptible,  yea  sub- 
missible  to  female  charm,  and  strangely  seems  to 
pass  through  an  intense  passional  spell  in  his  ca- 
reer. 

IV.  The  fact  must  be  acknowledged  that  the 
many-minded,  intellectual  self-contained  Ulysses 
is  portrayed  by  his  poet  as  taking  a  dip,  yea  two 
deep  dips  into  prolonged  amatory  experiences  dur- 
ing his  Return  to  settled  institutional  life.  Two 
shapes  of  beautiful,  enticing  women,  temptresses 
we  may  call  them,  cross  his  path  of  return  and 
restoration,  and  detain  him  in  their  toils  for  years. 
That  wonderful  intellect  of  the  thinker,  by  which 
he  brought  about  the  fall  of  Troy,  becomes  spell- 
bound to  a  new  fate,  being  enthralled  to  the  sen- 
suous fascination  of  sex.  These  ideal  seductive 
beings  who  so  bedazzle  the  mature  sage's  wisdom, 
belong  to  the  poet's  wonderland,  and  their  power 
over  such  a  mind  appears  to  have  a  strain  of  that 
marvelous  seething  underworld  of  soul  which 
breaks  up  at  times  from  its  long  repression  through 
the  very  ice  of  human  reason. 

The  first  of  the  twain  is  the  all-famous  Circe, 
whose  draught  turns  the  companions  of  Ulysses 
into  swine,  though  he  by  his  craft  now  enjoys  and 
escapes,  but  he  will  not  the  next  time.    Thus  she 


Clxxxvi  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

has  become  for  all  future  ages  a  symbol  of  that 
indulgence  which  makes  man  an  animal.  The 
many-minded,  versatile  Ulysses,  however,  rescues 
not  only  himself  but  also  his  companions,  where- 
upon the  whole  company  remains  in  Circe's  sweet 
bower  a  full  year,  experiencing  all  the  pleasures 
of  her  world  of  the  senses.  But  though  sunk  in 
such  a  protracted  orgy  of  enjoyment,  Ulysses  does 
not  wholly  lose  his  aspiration  for  his  true  home; 
so  at  last  he  breaks  his  fetters  after  a  long  spell 
of  incontinence,  and  starts  again  on  his  Return. 
An  heroic  inner  victory  the  poet  seems  to  stress 
it,  greater  than  any  outer  triumph  in  battle  on  the 
plains  of  Troy. 

But  in  his  wider  wanderings  again  he  falls  a 
victim  to  a  more  elemental,  subtle  temptress.  Cal- 
ypso, the  female  Concealer  in  her  Dark  Island  of 
Ogygia,  where  she  hid  him  or  his  soul  eight  years 
in  caressing  bondage  to  her  sex's  magical  fascina- 
tion. Why  such  a  long  discipline  of  the  many- 
minded,  ageing,  wisdom-illumined  Ulysses  under 
the  spell  of  the  Dark  Lady's  co-ercive  love,  who 
*Vishes  to  keep  him  forever  as  her  spouse!"  We 
have  to  think  it  to  be  a  necessary  stage  of  his  com- 
plete Return  and  Restoration,  as  the  poet  construes 
his  career,  peering  out  from  under  its  mythical 
guise. 

But  again  all  the  stronger  wells  up  with  the 
years  that  eternal  aspiration  of  Ulysses,  which 
has  made  him  discontented  with  all  the  delights 
and  splendors  of  those  two  enchanting  goddesses, 


THE  HOMERIC  FATE-COMPELLER qIxxxvu 

who,  he  affirms,  ^' never  did  persuade  the  heart 
within  my  breast."  So  he,  the  ever-experiencing 
hero,  keeps  recovering  himself  within  and  without 
in  his  long  devious  Return.  Thus  the  poet  por- 
trays him  as  specially  passion's  final  complete 
master  after  the  hardest,  most  searching  trials. 
The  Fate-compeller  over  nature's  primordial  dual- 
ism of  sex  is  thus  heroized  by  Time's  earliest  poet, 
after  blackest  sunken  spells  of  despair. 

Accordingly  it  will  be  noted  that  old  Homer 
also  records  his  desperate  trial  with  the  elemental 
might  of  love.  Something  of  the  kind  is  known 
to  be  true  of  his  three  supreme  poetic  world-broth- 
ers by  their  own  self -disclosures.  Shakespeare  like- 
wise has  celebrated  his  so-called  Dark  Lady,  to 
whom  he  seems  to  have  been  thralled  longer  than 
Ulysses  was  to  Calypso.  And  Dante  too  had  his 
life-spell  of  incontinence  through  which  fleet  the 
shadowy  forms  of  the  Pargoletta  and  other  sinful 
allurements,  whereof  he  makes  ample  confession 
to  all  time  in  his  poem.  And  the  readers  of  Goethe 
cannot  help  recalling  similar  instances  in  the  Ger- 
man poet 's  career,  inasmuch  as  he  himself  declares 
that  his  songful  Muse,  both  in  verse  and  prose,  was 
his  heart 's  dearest  confessor. 

In  such  fashion  the  poet  mythologizes  the  many- 
minded  Ulysses  in  his  intense  and  protracted  strug- 
gle with  the  various  hostile  agencies  seeking  to 
enthrall  his  soul,  and  thus  to  enslave  his  free  per- 
sonality. From  the  outer  doom  of  Smyrna  in  the 
East  to  his  inner  bondage  of  passion  in  the  West 


clxxxviii  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

he  has  kept  up  one  continued  fight  with  his  eveiv 
menacing  Fate.  But  he  surmounts  all  his  barriers 
within  and  without,  so  that  he  may  well  be  hailed 
the  Homeric  Fate-compeller. 

But  this  is  only  one  of  the  life-lines  of  the  grand 
Ulyssean  experience.  There  are  other  important 
ones,  which  must  be  recounted  if  we  would  con- 
ceive and  make  our  own  the  whole  man  either  as 
hero  or  as  poet. 

IV. 

Homer's  Life  of  Ulysses. 

Evidently  in  order  to  win  the  full  bearing  and 
significance  of  the  Ulyssean  Homer,  which  is  our 
theme,  we  should  take  an  all-rounded  survey  of  the 
Homeric  Ulysses.  For  into  the  personal  evolution 
of  this  hero  of  his  mind,  the  poet  without  doubt 
pours  more  of  his  own  psychical  self  than  into  any 
other  outstanding  figure  of  his  two  books.  Indeed 
it  may  be  said  that  Homer's  Ulysses  is  laid  out 
and  built  up  on  larger  lines,  with  a  more  com- 
prehensive psychology,  than  can  be  found  else- 
where in  any  single  character  of  Literature.  That 
is,  he  embraces  and  manifests  an  approachingly 
complete  inventory  of  humanity's  distinctive  at- 
tributes. 

Here  again  the  poet,  if  the  student's  mind  be 
duly  focused,  can  be  heard  declaring  some  such  su- 
perlative intention.  His  most  distinctive  and  all- 
inclusive  epithet  for  Ulysses,  among  many  more 
special  ones,  is  many-minded,  for  thus  the  Greek 


HOMER'S  LIFE  OF   ULYSSES         clxxxiX 

polumetis  is  to  be  fittingly  translated,  signify- 
ing the  man  of  many  kinds  of  human  mentality. 
Minerva,  the  hero's  Goddess,  the  Latin  Mens,  and 
our  English  Mind,  are  each  allied  to  that  basic  Ho- 
meric vocable  Metis  (even  a  Goddess  so  named  is  in 
Hesiod  as  first  wife  of  Zeus),  all  of  these  Euro- 
pean words  being  derived  from  one  old  Aryan  root 
(Curtius,  Grundzilge,  Gr.  Etym.  p.  279 — Second 
Edition).  The  poet,  accordingly,  will  embody  in 
his  Ulysses,  Mind  itself  epitomized  with  all  its 
faculties  in  the  individual  man,  who  is  now  the 
Homeric  hero  endowed  with  a  sort  of  All-Mind 
or  Universal  Intelligence. 

Has  the  poet  succeeded  in  realizing  his  stupend- 
ous conception  ?  Perhaps  not  entirely  on  all  sides ; 
he  has  wrought  out  and  exemplified  some  salient 
characteristics  of  his  hero  more  completely  and 
strikingly  than  others,  so  that  a  full-rounded  im- 
pression is  only  obtained  by  a  sjmthesis  of  the 
whole  career  of  the  man.  The  result  is  that  the 
character  of  the  total  Ulysses  in  its  entire  sweep 
and  meaning  is  quite  as  generally  misquoted  and 
misunderstood  as  is  the  total  Achilles — which  latter 
fact  we  have  emphasized  on  a  previous  page.  For 
merely  the  cunning  shifty  deceptive  Ulysses  is  the 
commonly  accepted,  even  literary  notion  of  this 
Homeric  hero.  But  as  Achilles  is  far  more  than 
his  wrath,  so  Ulysses  is  far  more  than  his  craft, 
though  this  he  has  and  uses.  It  is,  however,  but 
one  manifestation  or  phasis  of  the  universal  mind 
of  the  poet's  whole  hero. 


exc  HOMER'S  LIFELINES 

Hence  we  should  seek  as  our  final  object  to  round 
out  the  whole  Ulysses  in  his  wholeness.  To  this 
end  we  must  watch  his  complete  evolution  from 
start  to  finish,  as  set  forth  by  the  poet.  For  Ulys- 
ses moves  through  and  winds  up  the  entire  Mythus 
of  Troy  with  his  mind  and  deeds.  More  than  any 
other  Homeric  character  is  he  present  throughout 
the  Trojan  theme  from  overture  to  finale.  He 
lasts  as  long  as  the  poet  sings — is  the  poet  and 
sings  in  the  poet's  place,  as  already  noted. 

Accordingly  we  must  first  grasp  that  the  spir- 
itual outline  of  Ulysses  is  larger,  more  varied,  in- 
cluding more  than  any  other  character  in  Homer 
or  perhaps  in  Literature.  Point  to  another  so  com- 
plex and  so  comprehensive,  so  subtle  and  so  pro- 
found— does  he  exist  in  any  other  of  the  world's 
Literary  Bibles?  Hence  our  first  duty  is  to  take 
a  glance  over  the  entire  field  of  action  which  Ulys- 
ses covers  in  his  whole  career.  There  is  a  dis- 
tinctly complete  life  of  this  hero  indicated  by 
Homer — a  fuller  biography  c>f  him  we  can  make  out 
than  of  any  other  Homeric  personage. 

Three  well-marked  stages  or  periods  can  be 
traced,  through  which  Ulysses  passes  in  the  works 
of  the  poet :  the  time  before  the  expedition  to 
Troy  (the  Pre-Trojan  Ulysses) ;  the  time  of  the 
Ten  Years'  War,  which  gives  his  career  till  Troy 
is  taken  (the  Trojan  Ulysses)  ;  finally  the  time 
after  the  Fall  of  Troy,  recounted  in  the  Odyssey 
(the  Post-Trojan  Ulysses).  Yet  each  of  these 
periods  embraces  a  considerable  number  of  events 


HOMER'S^   LIFE   OF   VLY88E8  cxci 

and  changes,  which  make  up  his  complete  biogra- 
phy. That  is,  Ulysses  took  part  in  the  Preparation, 
in  the  Expedition,  and  in  the  Return,  each  of  which 
was  sharply  periodized  as  lasting  ten  years  already 
in  antiquity.  All  of  them  together  form  the  three 
decades  of  the  grand  Trojan  enterprise. 

In  these  three  stages  we  shall  find  him  growing 
in  personal  importance  from  youth  to  the  close. 
The  junior  Ulysses  is  recognized  as  the  man  of 
promise  and  is  employed  in  matters  especially  diplo- 
matic, those  which  require  mind,  as  the  embassies. 
The  middle-aged  Ulysses,  is  the  one  we  see  in  the 
Iliad — verging  toward  forty  he  must  have  been  if 
he  spent  ten  years  in  the  preparation  and  quite  as 
many  more  years  in  the  actual  war  before  Troy. 
Then  the  senior  Ulysses  is  the  supreme  hero  of  the 
Odyssey's  Return.  The  parallel  with  Homer's  pe- 
riods is  suggestive — the  poet  must  have  set  out  from 
Smyrna  at  about  forty  as  we  construe  his  life. 

I.  The  Pre-Trojan  Time  of  Ulysses.  As  al- 
ready indicated,  there  is  a  preparatory  decade  of 
the  Trojan  War,  for  which  Greece  is  shown  getting 
ready.  Troy  also  must  have  been  informed  con- 
cerning what  was  meditated  against  her,  for  when 
the  Greek  expedition  appears  before  her  gates,  she 
is  not  caught  by  surprise.  But  as  to  the  Greeks, 
Homer  gives  many  scattered  hints  of  the  delibera- 
tion of  the  leaders  until  the  expedition,  which  was 
a  mighty  combined  effort  of  all  Hellas,  had  sailed 
from  Aulis.  Later  legend  adds  much  that  is  irrele- 
vant to  this  early  account,  and  is  on  the  whole 
omissible. 


CXCii  HOMER'8  LIFE-LINES 

The  Pre-Trojan  Ulysses,  we  may  call  him  Ulysses 
junior,  is  portrayed  as  very  active  for  the  war  and 
for  the  restoration  of  Helen.  There  is  a  later  story 
which  names  him  as  one  of  the  suitors  of  Helen 
and  also  a  feigner  of  insanity  in  order  to  shirk 
the  Trojan  War,  in  which  ruse  he  is  detected  by 
Palamedes.  Byt  Homer  knows  nothing  of  such 
desultory  statements ;  on  the  contrary  he  makes  the 
young  Ulysses  from  the  start  one  of  the  prime 
movers  in  favor  of  the  war  against  Troy.  We  may 
suppose  that  he,  the  man  of  foresight,  already 
saw  the  impending  unavoidable  struggle  between 
Hellas  and  the  Orient.  He  did  not  need  to  sim- 
ulate madness,  or  to  take  an  oath  to  restore  Helen. 
He  belonged  to  the  Southern,  that  is,  the  more  civ- 
ilized Greece,  and  was  well  aware  of  its  problems. 
So  he  was  the  chosen  man,  though  so  young,  to 
do  the  works  of  mind  in  the  embassies. 

Hence  we  seek  to  bring  together  in  some  kind 
of  ordered  sequence  the  early  work  and  character 
of  this  junior  Pre-Trojan  Ulysses.  Does  he  at  such 
a  juvenile  stage  foreshow  what  he  is  to  attain 
hereafter?  One  thing  is  certain:  when  we  come 
to  collect  all  the  scattered  notices  in  Homer's  two 
poems  about  this  young  man,  we  are  surprised  at 
their  number  and  significant  interconnection.  Even 
about  his  name  and  origin  some  fanciful  items  are 
given  (Odyssey  XIX,  319)  which  have  been  al- 
ready alluded  to. 

The  first  cardinal  fact  of  his  biography  is  that 
he  has  won  a  young  wife,  who  in  her  domain  shows 


HOMER'S  LIFE   OF   ULYSSEi^  CXCiii 

herself  as  heroic  as  he  is  in  his.  Penelope  still  re- 
mains the  exemplary  Greek  woman,  and  has  a  ca- 
reer quite  as  famous  as  that  of  her  husband,  with 
which  it  is  intimately  connected.  Such  we  may 
deem  (with  the  poet)  the  first  grand  exploit  of 
Ulysses,  the  prelude  of  his  whole  life's  adventure, 
and  likewise  the  final  goal  of  his  return.  Most 
monogamous  of  celebrated  women,  which  trait 
makes  her  the  ideal  of  the  Trojan  War  and  of  all 
futurity,  in  contrast  with  the  two  other  Greek 
wives  of  that  age,  the  erring  but  restored  Helen, 
and  the  faithless  fated  Clytemnestra.  No  wonder 
that  still  to-day  girl  babes  are  named  after  Pe- 
nelope, who  seems  to  stand  next  in  female  fame  to 
Mother  Eve,  and  is  a  better  woman.  Which  of  the 
two  would  you  take  if  you  had  the  pick?  Such 
then,  is  the  first  heroic  achievement  of  young 
Ulysses,  his  getting  this  unique  helpmeet,  for  she 
rises  up  his  saving  ideal  throughout  all  the  furious 
catastrophes,  physical  and  spiritual,  of  his  long 
adventurous  life.  With  Penelope  the  career  of 
Ulysses  starts  and  closes — she  is  its  Alpha  and 
Omega.  So  the  first  World-Poet,  like  the  last, 
portrays  the  eternal  Woman-Soul  (Das  Ewig-Wei- 
liche). 

The  second  epochal  deed  of  the  young  Pre-Tro- 
jan  Ulysses  is  his  embassy  to  Troy  with  the  hus- 
band Menelaus  in  order  to  demand  the  restoration 
of  the  abducted  wife  Helen.  Such  an  office  im- 
plies a  recognition  of  him  as  the  ablest  mind  of 
the  Greek  princes  of  Southern  Hellas,  who  selected 


cxciv  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

and  sent  him  on  such  a  responsible  mission.  Quite 
a  full  account  we  have  of  the  appearance  of  the 
two  at  Troy  in  the  Iliad  (Book  III),  in  which  the 
imposing  external  appearance  of  Menelaus  is 
stressed,  while  Ulysses  is  praised  for  his  eloquence, 
**in  which  no  mortal  might  compete  with  him*'. 

The  embassy,  however,  does  not  succed;  Troy 
prefers  to  keep  Helen,  though  it  means  war.  In 
the  Trojan  assembly  Paris  was  too  strong,  and  it  is 
intimated  that  he  used  money  to  help  his  cause 
(Iliad  XI,  125),  though  Hector  and  Antenor,  the 
best  Trojans  favored  the  restoration  of  Helen.  But 
the  fight  had  to  come,  embassies  could  not  stop  it, 
as  little  as  they  could  the  recent  World-War  or 
the  American  Civil  War.  We  are  not  told  what 
Ulysses  said  to  that  Trojan  assembly,  but  we  may 
imagine  his  speech,  tactfully  yet  firmly  announc- 
ing the  ultimatum  and  witnessing  its  rejection. 

What  did  the  many-minded  young  diplomat  see 
at  Troy,  and  carry  back  to  Hellas  in  his  report? 
For  we  may  be  sure  he  was  sent  to  spy  out  the  city 
and  its  resources,  as  well  as  to  feel  and  to  record 
its  real  spirit.  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  Ulysses, 
surveying  the  whole  situation  on  both  sides,  was 
led  to  the  unalterable  belief  that  the  conflict  could 
not  be  avoided.  That  Trojan  World- War  must 
take  place :  such  became  his  in  tensest  conviction, 
in  which  we  have  already  seen  him  surpassing  both 
the  Leader  Agamemnon  and  the  Hero  Achilles,  and 
all  the  Greek  army  before  Troy.  (See  Iliad,  Book 
II,  for  a  most  vivid  illustration.)    Thus  the    poet 


HOMER'S  LIFE   OF   ULYSSES  CXCV 

portrays  Ulysses  as  the  man  having  the  deepest 
and  firmest  conviction  of  the  whole  Hellenic  world, 
as  regards  its  task  in  the  forthcoming  struggle  be- 
tween Orient  and  Occident.  Such  ultimate  truth 
of  the  situation  the  man  of  supreme  intelligence 
among  the  Greeks  has  derived  from  his  immediate 
personal  experience  at  Troy  during  his  embassy. 
Thus  he  comes  to  represent  the  intellect  of  the 
Greek  cause  armed  with  its  unswerving  purpose. 

Of  course  he  took  note  of  numerous  other  im- 
portant matters  while  in  the  Trojan  city.  He  saw 
polygamy  in  Priam's  life  if  not  in  his  palace, 
heard  the  repentant  soul  of  captive  Helen,  learned 
about  Troy's  Asiatic  auxiliaries,  marked  the  two 
parties  in  the  city,  the  Hellenizing  and  the  Orient- 
alizing. But  his  fixed  conclusion  could  not  help 
urging  him  that  Troy  was  not  only  headed  for  the 
Orient,  but  was  organizing  all  her  resources  and 
allies  for  her  Oriental  design,  and  that  her  ultimate 
scheme  was  to  seize  and  to  whelm  even  European 
Hellas  in  the  same  direction,  which  meant  of  course 
the  undoing  of  Greek  civilisation.     " 

Such  are  some  of  the  chief  results  of  this  Em- 
bassy of  Ulysses,  for  they  show  themselves  after- 
wards in  his  life  and  indeed  all  through  the  Trojan 
crisis.  The  young  ambassador  now  goes  home, 
and  with  a  deepened  earnestness  proclaims  his  new- 
won  knowledge  with  all  the  gifts  of  his  oratory. 
Evidently  he  has  become  the  intellectual  spokes- 
man and  promulgator  of  the  War,  and  his  cry 
throughout  Southern  Hellas  must  have  been  like 


CXCvi  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

that  of  old  Roman  Cato :  Troy  is  to  be  destroyed 
(delenda  est). 

Now  comes  the  second  important  embassy  of  the 
ardent  Pre-Trojan  Ulysses.  He  is  sent  with  Nestor 
to  Northern  Greece,  to  the  more  remote  backward 
Thessalian  part  of  Hellas,  which  could  not  be  so 
enthusiastic  over  that  dubiously  stolen  woman  of 
the  South.  Probably  those  distant  rustics  had  not 
heard  much  about  the  case.  So  the  well-informed 
persuasive  Ulysses  is  sent  from  the  more  advanced 
and  more  deeply  concerned  Southern  Greeks,  to 
tell  the  real  cause  of  the  great  expedition.  For  he 
had  seen  Troy  inside,  had  heard  its  tendency  stated 
by  its  own  speakers,  and  thus  had  experienced  its 
anti-Hellenic  spirit  and  purpose.  The  young  ora- 
tor might  be  deemed  too  verdant  and  extravagant 
hence  there  was  sent  with  him  the  aged  wise  man 
Nestor,  to  back  up  with  calm  wisdom  the  youth's 
more  impassioned  eloquence.  At  any  rate  the  em- 
bassy was  a  complete  success;  the  ruder  but  more 
virile  North  was  roused  to  take  part  in  the  grand 
Hellenic  enterprise.  Thus  the  two  separated  and 
mutually  repugnant  sections  of  Hellas  became 
united  in  their  common  cause,  and  were  ready  to 
march  to  Aulis  for  embarkation. 

But  the  chief  acquisition  of  this  embassy  was  that 
it  enlisted  the  best  fighter  of  the  whole  army,  in- 
deed its  hero  on  the  side  of  physical  excellence — 
young  Achilles.  With  him  went  along  two  other 
very  notable  characters — his  friend  Patroclus,  upon 
whose  death  so  much  of  the  Iliad  pivots,  and  his 


HOMER'S  LIFE  OF  ULY88E8  cxcvii 

teacher  Phoenix,  noblest  of  souls,  with  his  one  great 
speech  of  reconciliation. 

Such  is,  in  general,  the  Pre-Hellenic  epoch  of 
the  junior  Ulysses,  foreshowing  the  main  lines  of 
his  character  as  it  will  hereafter  unfold.  He  is  the 
brain  of  the  whole  business,  the  man  of  best  mind 
and  of  strongest  conviction.  Did  his  wife  Penelope 
bid  him  go  to  the  war?  Probably  she  did  not  think 
much  of  Helen,  still  she  could  not  help  knowing 
that  her  own  deepest  principle  of  monogamy  was  at 
stake  in  the  conflict.  Probably  she  thought  that 
the  fight  would  not  last  very  long,  and  her  hus- 
band would  soon  be  with  her  again  in  his  home.  But 
his  absence  continued  twenty  years — a  fearful  dis- 
cipline, but  it  makes  her  the  most  womanized  wom- 
an that  was  ever  portrayed 

It  is  due,  however,  to  pass  to  the  next  grand 
stage  in  the  life  of  Ulysses,  as  set  forth  by  Homer 
— the  second  decade  of  the  hero,  as  the  legend  dates 
it — the  mature  man  being  now  tried  by  the  emer- 
gencies of  war. 

II.  The  Trojan  Time  of  Ulysses.  It  is  evident 
that  the  human  discipline  of  personal  conflict  in 
battle  with  the  foe  will  be  very  different  from  that 
of  the  epoch  which  has  just  preceded.  Moreover  we 
fortunately  have  now  a  direct  record  of  the  hero's 
deeds  in  the  Iliad,  which  tell  of  him  along  with  the 
rest  of  its  foremost  characters. 

In  the  First  Book  of  the  poem  (I,  311,  440)  Ulys- 
ses is  chosen  to  take  Chryseis,  the  captive  woman  of 
Agamemnon,  back  to  her  father,  and  to  mitigate 


CXCviii  HOMER'^  LIFELINES 

the  plague  in  the  Greek  camp  by  the  sacrifice  of  a 
hecatomb  to  the  offended  God  Apollo.  A  delicate 
business  requiring  both  knowledge  of  mind  and 
skillful  handling:  hence  he  is  here  at  the  start 
labeled  twice  the  many-minded  {polumeiis).  He 
succeeds  in  conciliating  the  God  and  his  priest,  but 
the  other  deeper  plague,  both  spiritual  and  physical, 
the  quarrel  between  the  Hero  (Achilles)  and  thei 
Leader  (Agamemnon)  still  remains  in  its  full  in- 
tensity. Ulysses  has  no  power  to  heal  that  deepest 
dualism  of  the  Greek  consciousness,  which  must 
now  work  itself  out  through  the  terrible  throes  of 
experience  on  both  sides. 

But  it  is  the  Second  Book  of  the  Iliad  which  en- 
thrones Ulysses  in  his  intellectual  supremacy,  a 
fact  which  seems  indicated  by  the  personal  pres- 
ence of  Athena,  Goddess  of  Wisdom,  at  his  side,  as 
his  divine  inspirer,  and  his  deed  also  acclaims  him 
the  master-mind  of  all  that  Greek  host  before  Troy. 
Likewise  it  shows  him  endowed  with  a  more  ada- 
mantine conviction  than  any  other  man  in  the 
army,  prince  or  plebeian.  This  conviction  tells  him 
that  there  is  no  running  away  from  the  great  con- 
flict of  the  time  and  of  his  Hellenic  folk ;  the  war 
must  be  fought  to  a  finish  in  Troy's  fall.  But 
enough  of  the  present  crisis  has  been  stated  already. 

Skipping  some  lesser  actions  we  come  to  his  new 
embassy  (Book  IX)  to  Achilles,  now  the  wrathful 
hero,  not  the  capricious  school-boy  of  Phthia,  who 
gave  so  much  trouble  to  his  teacher  Phoenix. 
Again  Ulysses  and  Nestor  (with  some  inferior  as- 


HOMER'S  LIFE  OF   ULYS8ES  cxcix 

sistants)  are  chosen  chief  ambassadors,  as  they  had 
been  quite  ten  years,  according  to  the  story's  tally, 
before  the  present  time,  to  win  the  hero  anew  for 
the  great  cause.  But  they  fail  completely  in  this 
second  effort,  he  rejects  with  scorn  the  offer  of  pla- 
cation.  Indeed  he  seems  to  twit  Ulysses  as  double 
souled :  ' '  Hateful  to  me  as  the  gates  of  Hell  is  the 
man  who  hides  one  thing  in  his  heart  and  says  an- 
other; but  I  shall  speak  outright  my  own  mind." 
Thus  we  catch  a  decided  undertone  of  rivalry,  if 
not  of  jealousy,  between  the  hero  of  brawn  and  the 
hero  of  brain,  the  physical  and  the  mental  athletes. 
And  Achilles  gives  a  perceptible  slur  to  Ulysses  in 
the  title  many-deviced  {polumechanos)  which  is 
different  in  meaning  and  temper  from  his  usual 
epithet  many-minded  (polumetis). 

Still  Ulysses  appears  at  the  final  reconciliation 
between  the  Greek  Hero  and  the  Greek  Leader, 
which,  however,  he  has  had  no  hand  in  bringing 
about.  But  he  seizes  the  opportunity,  with  no  little 
energy  to  assert  his  sphere  of  pre-eminence  to 
Achilles  in  person:  ''Mightiest  of  the  Achaeans 
art  thou,  and  far  mightier  than  I  am  with  the 
spear ;  but  in.  council  I  surpass  thee  greatly,  for  I 
am  older  and  know  much  more.*'  A  flash  of  re- 
sentment we  may  well  feel  dictating  this  proud 
declaration  of  his  own  mental  superiority,  in  an- 
swer to  the  contempt  of  Achilles  for  the  works  of 
mind  in  the  conduct  of  the  war. 

Here  we  conclude  the  career  of  Ulysses  as  given 
in  the  Iliad,  for  henceforth  he  drops  into  the  back- 


Cc  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

ground,  unimportant  during  the  rest  of  the  poem, 
though  not  wholly  unmentioned.  But  the  secret 
rivalry  and  indeed  antagonism  between  the  hero 
of  mind  and  the  hero  of  body  can  be  felt  all 
through  the  Iliad,  though  overtopped  by  the  fateful 
wrath  with  its  strife.  Still  after  the  close  of  the 
poem  with  its  double  reconciliation  of  the  Hero,  the 
war  is  by  no  means  ended.  Nor  is  its 'principle 
won,  which  is  the  triumph  of  the  Hellenic  world 
over  the  Orient. 

At  this  point  then  starts  a  new  phase  of  the  ca- 
reer of  Ulysses,  especially  in  his  relation  to  the  hero 
and  the  method  of  warfare.  For  when  Achilles  re- 
turns to  the  field  of  battle  after  his  ransom  of 
Hector  and  his  truce  with  Troy,  in  which  Ulysses 
did  not  and  could  not  take  any  part  according  to 
his  ultimate  conviction,  the  struggle  of  the  two  for 
the  crown  of  heroship  becomes  more  open  and  more 
acrid.  Here  is  to  be  placed  the  song  which  Demo- 
docus  sang  in  Pheacia,  whose  theme  was  the  strife 
between  Ulysses  and  Achilles,  **how  they  contended 
with  mighty  words  at  a  grand  festival  of  gods,  the 
fame  of  which  lay  had  reached  high  heaven**. 
(Odyssey  VIII,  73.)  This  openly  manifested  rup- 
ture between  these  two  heroes  and  their  tendencies 
would  naturally  occur  in  the  Post-Iliad,  when  the 
inability  of  Achilles  to  take  the  walls  of  Troy  had 
been  so  decisively  shown  by  quite  ten  years'  fight- 
ing before  the  still  frowning  Trojan  battlements. 
To  be  sure  the  rivalry  between  the  representatives 
of  Brain  and  of  Brawn  lay  implicit  in  the  enter- 


HOMER'^  LIFE  OF  ULYSSES  cci 

prise  from  the  start,  but  now  it  has  become  vio- 
lently explicit.  We  may  well  suppose  that  the  in- 
ventive mind  of  Ulysses  had  already  schemed  some 
grand  strategem  for  overcoming  the  hitherto  insur- 
mountable difficulty  of  the  war,  probablj'  just  the 
Trojan  Horse.  But  he  was  for  the  present  over- 
ruled by  his  competitor. 

So  Achilles  of  the  Post-Iliad  sallies  forth  to  fresh 
conflicts  against  the  new  Trojan  auxiliaries  who 
have  hastened  to  the  city's  defence.  He  slays  the 
queen  of  those  strange,  perhaps  prophetic  woman- 
fighters,  the  Amazons,  her  name  in  later  legend  has 
been  handed  down  as  the  heroine  Penthesilea. 
Memnon,  son  of  the  dreamy  Dawn,  with  his  dark 
Ethiopians  appears  on  the  side  of  the  Trojans 
(tawny-skinned  peoples  of  the  East  are  to-day  ar- 
rayed with  the  Turks — another  prophecy),  and 
falls  by  the  hand  of  Achilles.  So  the  prolific  My- 
thus  of  Troy  keeps  growing  luxuriantly  after  the 
close  of  the  Iliad,  whereof  the  later  Odyssey  gives 
many  a  passing  gleam.  Finally  Achilles  himself 
is  slain,  and  therein  fulfils  Hector's  prophecy  and 
his  own — his  early  death  being  repeatedly  foretold 
in  the  Iliad. 

•  But  the  hostile  city  remains  still  untaken,  the 
supreme  Hellenic  deed  has  refused  so  far  to  get 
itself  done.  Indeed  Achilles,  the  original  Greek 
hero,  became  finally  the  grand  obstacle.  But  now 
he  has  vanished,  and  forth  steps  Ulysses,  the  hero 
of  mind,  whereby  he  becomes  the  real  hero  of  the 
enterprise  against  Troy.     So  many  years  it  has 


Ceii  HOMER'S  LIFELINES 

taken  to  evolve  the  right  man  for  the  crisis — an 
experience  not  unknown  to-day. 

Still  opposition  is  not  absent,  the  claim  of  brawn 
finds  a  fresh  supporter  in  Ajax,  a  kind  of  carica- 
ture of  the  muscular  principle  in  his  huge  cor- 
poreal mass  of  flesh.  He  challenges  the  new  honor 
of  Ulysses,  loses  the  prize,  and  therewith  also  his 
mind,  what  little  he  has,  for  he  goes  crazy.  Such 
is  the  mental  outcome  of  this  old  Greek  contest  be- 
tween Brain  and  Brawn,  which  is,  however,  eternal, 
for  it  is  going  on  with  increased  virulence  and  as- 
sertive energy  in  our  modernest  history. 

But  the  great  fact  now  is  that  the  intelligence  of 
Ulysses  has  become  the  ruler  of  the  highest  Hellenic 
cause;  the  Trojan  Horse  is  made,  being  built  by 
mechanic  Epeios,  and  through  its  means  Troy  falls. 
That  was  the  sovereign  theme  which  was  intoned  by 
the  Ithaean  bard  Demodocus  in  his  third  lay,  which 
he  was  prompted  to  sing  by  Ulysses  himself. 

It  will  be  observed  that  after  the  Iliad,  the  My- 
thus  of  Troy  has  unfolded  the  biography  of  Ulysses 
to  his  supreme  triumph,  the  capture  of  the  hostile 
city.  Such  is  what  we  have  entitled  his  Trojan 
time,  the  ten  years  which  he  spent  in  the  actual 
conflict  which  his  mental  sovereignty  has  at  last 
brought  to  a  victorious  conclusion.  It  will  be  seen 
that  his  career  has  reached  decidedly  beyond  the 
record  of  the  Iliad,  for  he  has  openly  to  oppose, 
and  ultimately  to  supplant  the  Iliad's  hero  Achil- 
les, whose  limit  he  has  transcended  both  in  thought 
and  deed. 


HOMER'S  LIFE   OF   ULYSSES  cciii 

What  next?  Ulysses  having  put  down  Troy, 
must  now  get  back  to  Penelope  and  Ithaca,  from 
whom  he  has  so  long  been  separated.  Here  then 
begins  his  Post-Trojan  time,  which  has  already  been 
repeatedly  designated  as  the  Return,  and  which 
forms  the  subject  of  an  entirely  new  poem,  the 
Odyssey. 

III.  The  Post-Trojan  Time  of  Ulysses.  Our 
faithful  reader  will  not  fail  to  note  that  we  have 
now  come  back,  in  this  biography  of  Homer,  to  the 
point  where  we  started  the  present  chapter,  the 
Second,  which  bears  the  general  title,  The  TJlyssean 
Homer.  So  this  Post-Trojan  Time  of  Ulysses  has 
been  already  covered,  in  so  far  as  it  reveals  the  evo- 
lution of  Homer's  life,  which  subtly  lurks  in  it  un- 
der its  mythical  habit. 

Moreover  the  pushing  student  of  the  poet's  psy- 
chology, being  in  hot  pursuit  of  the  details  of  the 
whole  Homeric  development,  will  now  turn  more 
intently  to  the  book,  to  the  Odyssey  itself,  with  the 
idea  of  tracing  in  its  external  events  the  indwelling 
autobiography  of  its  poetic  creator.  According  to 
the  exact  mathematics  of  ancient  tradition,  Ulysses 
is  now  passing  through  the  third  decade  of  his 
long  Trojan  experience,  namely  the  ten  years  of  his 
Return  to  "sunny  Ithaca  and  prudent  Penelope '^ 
with  which  the  grand  My  thus  of  the  Trojan  World- 
War  comes  to  an  end.  Elsewhere  in  the  foregoing 
pages  we  have  treated  of  this  Return  of  the  Hero 
and  its  biographic  purport,  Thus  the  present  essay 
has  rounded  itself  out  to  its  conclusion, 


Cciv  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

Still  it  should  be  emphasized  that  the  Odyssey 
itself  in  its  entirety  is  the  work  now  to  be  taken 
in  hand,  organized,  and  thoroughly  penetrated  by 
thought  till  it  becomes  transparent  in  structure  and 
meaning  to  its  resolute  reader.  Literature  helpful 
and  otherwise,  old  and  new,  on  the  subject  he  will 
find  in  abundance.  (It  may  be  permitted  here  to 
say  that  the  present  author  has  elaborated  with 
some  fullness  his  views  in  his  Commentary  on  the 
Odyssey.) 

A  word  should  here  be  added  of  the  time  when 
the  foregoing  account  of  Homer  and  his  poetry 
with  its  enduring  conflict  was  written.  The  sub- 
ject was  first  taken  up  and  composed  during  the 
summer  of  1922  when  the  present  war  between 
Hellas  and  the  Orient  had  started  its  desperate 
grapple,  showing  many  bloody  fluctuations  from 
one  side  to  the  other  along  the  Anatolian  battle- 
front.  So  the  author  could  not  help  seeing,  though 
he  stood  on  the  other  side  of  the  globe,  and  also  liv- 
ing in  and  through  this  fresh  Trojan  War,  as  it  was 
but  another  renewed  phase  of  the  ancient  Homeric 
struggle.  Thus  present  history  would  keep  flowing 
through  his  pen  as  the  most  vivid  and  best  illustra- 
tion of  the  old  poem.  Hence  it  results  that  to-day 's 
world-conflict  has  become  the  truest  explication  and 
commentary  ever  yet  composed  by  Time  on  Ho- 
mer's work,  and  also  on  his  life,  which  unfolds  and 
expresses  itself  in  his  work. 

Another  reflection  may  be  appended  to  the  pre- 
ceding remark.    The  Ulyssean  Homer  has  trans- 


HOMER'S  LIFE  OF  ULY88ES 


CCV 


mitted  to  all  future  ages  in  his  Ulysses  a  world- 
character,  a  kind  of  universal  man  who  reflects  and 
embodies  most  fully  his  own  time,  yet  therein  casts 
an  image  of  all  time.  For  these  three  stages  of 
him,  which  have  just  been  considered,  the  Pre-Tro- 
jan,  the  Trojan,  and  the  Post-Trojan,  are  quite  as 
true  of  our  generation  to-day  as  they  were  of  Ho- 
mer's time,  say  eighty  or  ninety  generations  ago. 
Europe,  our  America,  yea  the  whole  world  has  just 
passed  through  a  similar,  in  fact  essentially  the 
same  experience.  If  we  think  about  it  for  a  mo- 
ment, we  find  that  we  have  elaborated  the  like 
nomenclature  for  the  like  historic  conditions.  Our 
own  generation  we  hear  divided  everywhere,  in  our 
private  talk  and  in  the  newspaper,  into  the  pre-war 
time,  the  war  years,  and  the  after-war  days,  which 
we  are  living  through  just  now,  and  in  whose  dark 
gigantic  uncertainties  we  are  shivering  and  strug- 
gling, like  Ulysses  in  the  cave  of  the  monster  Poly- 
phemus. Still  the  poet  signals  us  to  imitate  his 
hero  with  equal  aspiration  and  hope,  to  the  end  that 
we  too  shall  successfully  make  the  grand  Return  to 
' '  sunny  Ithaca  and  prudent  Penelope ' '. 

Thus  we  rise  to  a  new  appreciation  of  the  old 
Greek  poet,  who  has  so  prophetically  foreshown  to 
us  our  own  day  and  generation.  He  has  given  us 
in  embryo  the  world's  pre-war  time  of  preparation 
with  its  presentiment  of  something  big  and  dread- 
ful about  to  happen ;  then  he  sings  the  war-time  of 
actual  conflict  whose  battle  field  is  not  now  con- 
fined to  the  small  Trojan  plain,  but  circles  quite  the 


Ccvi  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

whole  earth-ball;  finally  he  attunes  into  his  hexa- 
metral  music  the  post-war  discord  and  strife  sprung 
of  the  spirit's  recoil  in  struggling  to  recover  from 
man*s  demonic  will  to  slay  his  fellow-man.  So  we 
are  in  the  end  to  conceive  the  Ulyssean  Homer  as 
the  world-poet  unfolding  in  his  poem  a  world-char- 
acter with  its  three  grand  stages  which  are  here 
named  the  Pre-Trojan,  the  Trojan,  and  the  Post- 
Trojan. 

But  at  this  point  we  must  not  fail  to  remember 
that  the  poet,  though  his  sovereign  achievement, 
his  Iliad  and  Odyssey  be  finished,  is  still  alive  and 
ready  for  his  next  task,  or  rather  for  his  next  stage 
of  evolution.  What  will  be  the  work  of  his  old- 
age?  The  question  naturally  arose  in  antiquity, 
and  had  then  a  number  of  answers,  all  of  which, 
however,  belong  to  a  much  later  time  than  that  of 
the  poet.  Moreover  for  this  last  period  of  his  ca- 
reer he  has  left  no  mythical  song  into  which  he  has. 
gleamed  hints  of  his  autobiography,  such  as  we 
have  traced  in  the  two  poems  under  his  name.  Still 
all  tradition  insists — rightly  we  think — upon  giving 
him  a  third  period  which  we  may  in  part  forecast 
and  even  reconstruct.  Hence  the  aspiring  reader 
will  dare  conceive,  and  perchance  write  for  his  own 
behoof,  the  unwritten  Homer. 


THE  CHIAN  HOMER  ccvii 


CHAPTER  THIRD, 
THE   CHIAN  HOMER. 


Thus  we  have  now  to  designate  Homer  after  a 
locality,  and  not  after  the  name  of  one  of  his  he- 
roes, as  we  have  done  hitherto.  For  this  third  stage 
or  period  of  the  poet  is  not  set  forth  in  any  poem 
of  his  or  in  any  documented  record.  So  we  have 
to  conceive,  from  that  which  we  already  know  of 
him,  what  Homer,  still  alive  and  active  in  his  later 
years,  would  have  done  after  he  had  completed  his 
Odyssey.  In  other  words  we  shall  attempt  to  con- 
strue the  poet  now  living  his  poem,  and  taking  him- 
self as  his  own  hero. 

The  first  point  which  we  may  set  down  in  this 
new  turn  of  his  central  life-line,  is  that  he  locates 
himself  on  the  island  of  Chios,  which  is  separated 
from  the  Anatolian  mainland  by  a  strait  easy  to 
cross  and  not  difficult  to  be  protected  by  the  sea- 
faring Greek  from  the  land-faring  Oriental.  On 
the  opposite  coast  from  Chios  lies  his  old  home  town 
Smyrna,  hugging  an  arm  of  the  sea  as  its  only  hope. 
But  thither  Homer  will  not  return  in  spite  of  its 
attractions,  though  he  passed  fruitful  years  there 
in  writing  his  Iliad.  He  remembers  only  too  well 
the  ever-menacing  fate  suspended  over  that  city  by 
the  Asiatic,  especially  by  the  Lydian,  from  which 
city  he  once  fled  after  ominous  experience.  More- 
over he  has  transcended  his  first  warlike  Achillean 


CCViii  HOMER'8  LIFE-LINES 

period;  yea,  he  has  just  completed  his  second  ad- 
venturous Ulyssean  voyage,  and,  as  we  believe,  has 
composed  it  into  a  book,  which  we  have  still  in  its 
essential  word  and  verse,  structure  and  content. 
For  it  can  only  be  the  work  of  one  supreme  world- 
genius,  gifted  with  the  most  subtle  yet  massive 
architectonic  skill,  as  well  as  with  loftiest  poetic 
spontaneity. 

Accordingly  we  conceive  that  the  poet  now  makes 
his  own  personal  return  to  his  former  East-Greek 
homeland,  choosing  for  his  new  abode  the  better 
protected  insular  Chios.  Our  attentive  reader  will 
note  that  we  have  here  again  employed  the  pivotal 
word  Return,  which  is  now  applied  not  to  Ulysses 
but  to  his  poet,  to  Homer  himself,  who  moves  spa- 
tially in  the  opposite  direction,  namely  from  West 
to  East,  as  he  did  long  ago  in  his  youth  when  he 
migrated  to  Anatolia,  doubtless  from  Northern 
Greece. 

Hence  for  the  poet  this  is  likewise  a  spiritual  Re- 
turn, a  poetical  home-coming,  in  contrast  to  the 
westward  home-coming  of  Ulysses  who  seeks  to  be 
restored  to  his  family  and  country,  to  his  original 
institutional  life.  Homer  is  that  too,  as  we  have 
fully  recognized  in  his  Ulyssean  period.  But  he  is 
more,  much  more  than  the  wandering,  returning 
Ulysses;  he  is  the  poet,  the  poet  universal,  even 
when  he  makes  his  Ulysses  the  singer  of  a  particu- 
lar and  partial  stage  of  himself,  as  we  have  already 
observed  of  his  song  of  the  Fableland  in  the  Odys- 
sey.   But  after  this  one  bardic  outbreak,  Ulysses 


THE  CHIAN  HOMER  ccix 

quits  his  minstrelsy,  for  he  has  another  more 
weighty  duty,  very  practical  and  not  poetical,  the 
battle  with  the  suitors  in  his  own  household — which 
ends  his  long  line  of  adventures  and  their  song. 

Still  the  question  will  come  up :  why  should  this 
be  called  a  spiritual  Return  for  Homer — on  what 
ground  can  Chios  or  Anatolia  be  regarded  as  the 
final  goal  of  his  aspiration,  the  last  home  of  his 
genius?  Here  rises  significantly  the  fact  that  in 
these  Greek  colonies  and  islands  strown  along  the 
shores  of  Asia  Minor,  the  earliest  distinctive  Hel- 
lenic civilisation  put  forth  its  primal  flowering  into 
communal  life,  and  with  the  same  began  to  bloom 
art  and  science.  But  especially  the  time's  highest 
self-expression  could  only  be  given  through  poetry, 
which  culminated  in  Homer.  We  have  already 
noted  the  fact  that  Smyrna  became  the  primordial 
center  from  which  radiated  the  grand  development 
of  the  people's  favorite  Mythus  of  Troy  with  its 
song  and  story.  This  Mythus  unfolded  to  its  high- 
est point  in  the  Iliad  of  Homer,  ere  he  broke  away 
on  his  wanderings  westward,  recorded  mythically 
in  the  Odyssey. 

But  after  experiencing  and  conceiving  this  poem, 
probably  with  portions  of  it  already  wrought  out, 
he  returns  to  his  Anatolian  folk  which  was  then 
the  most  prosperous  and  most  advanced,  and  also 
the  most  creative  intellectually  of  the  whole  Hel- 
lenic world.  Smyrna  with  its  Mythus  of  Troy  ef- 
florescing and  culminating  in  Homer  was  the  scene 
of  the  eirliest  outburst  of  Greek  genius  in  the  dim 


CCX  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

aforetime.  But  when  Smyrna  declined  or  was  de- 
stroyed by  the  Lydian  Alyattes,  the  cultural  devel- 
opment of  those  Anatolian  cities  became  centered 
in  Ionic  Miletus,  which  lay  quite  a  distance  to  the 
south  of  Smyrna,  and  rose  to  a  new  world-historical 
distinction.  For  Occidental  philosophy,  science, 
history  first  budded  out  at  Miletus  some  six  or 
seven  centuries  before  Christ,  hence  a  good  while 
after  Homer.  Thus  Miletus  became  the  home  of 
prose  rather  than  of  poetry,  of  the  thinker  not  of 
the  singer,  and  so  contrasts  with  the  earlier  song- 
minded  Smyrna.  Moreover  we  first  heai  of  de- 
mocracy at  Miletus,  a  Greek  word  and  thing  des- 
tined to  a  great  evolution  down  the  ages  till  now, 
and  to  a  still  greater  fulfilment  in  the  future.  Ho- 
mer, however,  as  voiced  by  Ulysses,  seems  not  to 
have  loved  the  rule  of  the  many  {polukoirania) , 
which  shows  one  bad  sample  of  itself  already  in  the 
Iliad.  (Book  II,  201.)  The  mountain-summits  of 
Greek  civilisation  may  be  seen  in  these  three  suc- 
cessive Ionic  city-states — the  myth-loving  poetic 
Smyrna  represented  by  Homer  the  philosophic 
and  scientific  Miletus  represented  by  Thales,  the 
universal  Athens  of  Pericles. 

Accordingly  after  the  Return  of  Ulysses,  who 
has  been  brought  back  by  his  poet  successfully  to 
his  Ithaca,  there  must  follow  the  Return  of  this 
poet  himself,  of  the  Ulyssean  home-bringer,  who 
has  also  to  be  restored  to  his  homeland,  which  is  in 
general  Anatolia.  It  is  no  wonder,  then,  that  many 
a  floating  legend  seeks  to  locate  Homer  somewhere 


THE  CHI  AN  HOMER  ccxi 

in  the  cities  and  islands  of  the  Eastern  Egean,  but 
not  in  the  West,  where  practically  the  whole  action 
of  the  poet's  Odyssey  has  taken  place.  Thus  the 
Return  of  Homer  Eastward  is  the  necessary  com- 
plement and  indeed  counterpart  of  the  Return  of 
Ulysses  Westward. 

But  what  is  the  returned  poet,  an  old  man  but 
still  mentally  active,  to  do  with  himself  when  he 
gets  back  home  ?  We  may  suppose  that  his  poetical 
work  is  essentially  done,  his  Iliad  and  Odyssey 
achieved,  and  probably  written  out  readable.  For 
more  and  more  the  proof  is  accumulating  that  Ho- 
mer's poems  could  have  been  set  down  in  the  early 
Greek  alphabetic  letters  which  were  in  use  long  be- 
fore any  century  to  which  he  is  assigned.  The 
former  view  that  there  existed  no  script  for  Ho- 
mer's compositions,  has  with  good  reason  lost  most 
of  its  supporters.  Hence  it  may  be  reasonably  held 
that  in  Homer's  school,  which  tradition  so  generally 
locates  at  Chios,  there  can  have  been  some  kind  of 
primitive  writing  and  reading,  as  well  as  memoriz- 
ing and  chanting  the  lays  of  the  poet. 

It  is  evident  that  the  foregoing  statement  im- 
plies the  sort  of  task  which  Homer  took  upon  him- 
self after  his  home-coming.  He  became  the 
propagator  and  teacher  of  his  art  to  a  band  of 
specially  instructed  disciples.  It  is  remarkable 
what  a  unanimity  of  tradition  exists  on  this  point, 
so  that  it  has  become  the  most  generally  accepted 
fact  in  the  life  of  Homer.  The  guild  or  singing 
sodality  called   Homerids,  or  sons  of  Homer,  of 


CCxii  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

course  his  spiritual  sons,  seems  to  have  brought  to 
Chios  her  chief  fame  throughout  historical  Hellas. 
They  claimed  origin  from  the  poet  in  mythical  an- 
tiquity, and  their  activity  extended  during  the  doc- 
umented ages  of  Greece,  if  we  may  judge  from  the 
many  allusions  in  later  Greek  writers.  And  the 
name  has  come  down  to  modern  times,  since  Goethe 
called  himself  a  Homerid  in  his  classic  enthusiasm, 
and  sought  to  reproduce  and  even  to  complete  the 
old  Greek  poet's  masterpiece  by  a  new  Achilleis, 
as  he  calls  his  hexametral  fragment. 

Moreover  an  innate  pedagogical  bent  can  be 
traced  everywhere  throughout  Homer,  as  we  have 
repeatedly  indicated  in  the  foregoing  account. 
What  a  long,  loving,  intimate  record  is  that  told  in 
the  Iliad  about  Phoenix  the  teacher  of  Achilles! 
In  it  seems  to  lurk  a  presentiment  of  what  the  poet 
is  himself  to  become  in  the  final  stage  of  his  life's 
evolution.  Then  the  Odyssey  may  well  be  deemed 
one  of  the  great  educational  books  of  the  race,  in- 
eluding  in  its  school  both  young  and  old,  son  and 
father,  Telemachus  and  Ulysses.  Hence  to  the 
psychically  penetrating  reader  of  the  Iliad  and  the 
Odyssey,  the  result  appears  most  natural,  yea  nec- 
essary to  their  author's  complete  career,  that  he 
should  become  the  poet-teacher  of  his  own  work  as 
poet. 

So  much  we  may  infer  from  Homer's  actual 
statements  concerning  what  he  might  do  and  be- 
come during  the  last  period  of  his  life.  From 
world-poet  to  Chian  schoolmaster — does  not  that 


THE  CHIAN  HOMER  ccxili 

hint  of  a  decadent  senile  lapse?  So  some  may 
moot.  But  what  if  the  other  world-poets  may  be 
found  passing  through  essentially  the  same  spirit- 
ual estate  in  their  old  age?  Of  such  a  fact  it  is 
worth  while  to  give  some  proof,  inasmuch  as  for 
their  lives  historical  evidence  can  be  cited,  which 
in  Homer's  case  is  not  to  be  obtained. 

To  take  Dante  for  a  start:  strikingly  evident 
everywhere  in  his  work  is  the  pedagogical  trend  of 
his  nature,  which  crops  out  both  in  his  prose  writ- 
ings and  in  his  poetry.  But  especially  during  his 
last  years  at  Ravenna  he  opened  his  own  school  for 
instruction  in  literature,  as  his  contemporary  biog- 
rapher Boccaccio  indicates:  '^And  here  at  Ra- 
venna Dante  by  his  teachings  trained  many  pupils 
in  poetry,"  certainly  not  omitting  his  own  verses. 
So  the  Italian  world-poet  herein  followed  his  elder 
Greek  brother,  assuredly  not  by  way  of  imitation, 
but  through  the  inner  evolution  of  his  spirit. 
Hence  the  significant  co-incidence  may  well  be  pon- 
dered that  Dante  establishes  a  poetic  school  of 
Danteids  for  his  final  achievement,  as  ancient  Ho- 
mer is  said  to  have  founded  his  Chian  school  of 
singing  Homerids. 

Goethe  has  likewise  the  didactic  undertow  in  his 
writings,  as  has  often  been  remarked.  In  his  Wil- 
helm  Meister  (Part  Second)  he  actually  organizes 
and  describes  what  may  be  called  a  world-school 
called  his  Pedagogic  Province.  And  in  his  old  age 
his  Weimar  home  became  a  sort  of  germinal  insti- 
tute for  instructing  his  own  people  and  indeed  all 


CCxiv  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

Europe,  through  his  marvelous  gift  of  oral  and 
epistolary  communication.  But  especially  his  Con- 
versations with  Eckermann  show  in  happiest  di- 
dactic expression  this  last  phase  of  his  life,  when 
he  looks  back  upon  his  career  and  reports  its  richest 
experience  to  the  pupil  whom  he  has  selected  to 
write  the  record.  So  Goethe  also  had  in  him  the 
strain  of  the  schoolmaster,  and  in  his  final  period 
he  kept  a  kind  of  school  to  impart  his  wisdom,  es- 
pecially poetical  and  literary,  to  the  listeners  who 
sought  his  presence  from  all  corners  of  the  world 

In  such  high  poetic  company  we  always  think  of 
Shakespeare,  whose  pedagogic  vein  is  more  hidden, 
being  in  dramatic  disguise,  but  it  is  by  no  means 
absent.  He  plays  the  teacher  repeatedly  (see  for 
instance  Hamlet's  lesson  to  the  actors),  satirizes 
pedants,  and  once  he  stages  a  full  school  of  phi- 
losophy in  imitation  of  Plato's  Academe.  The  last 
four  years  of  his  life,  which  he  passed  at  Stratford, 
and  which  would  be  the  natural  time  for  the  old 
man's  retrospective  tutelage,  are  largely  lost  to  us, 
but  we  may  conceive  him  to  have  spent  his  time 
somewhat  as  did  his  illustrious  compeers,  Dante 
and  Goethe,  at  the  same  age. 

Accordingly  there  are  some  good  reasons  for 
thinking  that  the  author  of  the  Homeric  poems 
opened  a  school  somewhere,  most  probably  in  the 
island  of  Chios,  after  the  completion  of  his  work 
during  his  last  years.  First,  there  is  a  sort  of 
unanimous  tradition  coming  down  from  antiquity 
and  seemingly  reaching  back  to  the  poet's  owu 


THE  CHIAN  HOMER  CCXV 

deed,  that  he  established  a  kind  of  training  insti- 
tute for  pupils  studying  his  poetry,  known  as  the 
Homerids  of  Chios.  Secondly,  these  Homerids, 
often  called  also  rhapsodes,  are  documented  amply 
by  later  Greek  writers — well  does  Plato  know  them, 
and  introduce  them  into  his  dialogues.  Thirdly,  the 
native  teaching-strain  runs  through  all  Homer,  be- 
ing most  prominent  in  the  Odyssey.  Hence  in  his 
Chian  school  he  best  realized  what  lay  implicitly 
throbbing  in  his  spirit,  which  thus  reaches  at  last 
its  complete  explicit  fulfilment.  Fourthly,  the 
analogy  between  Homer  and  the  succeeding  su- 
preme world-poets,  whom  we  have  cited,  and  who 
show  a  like  didactic  element  in  the  closing  period 
of  their  careers,  may  be  regarded  as  throwing  a 
light  far  back  upon  the  similar,  though  unchron- 
icled,  stage  of  their  elder  brother  of  equal  or  per- 
chance of  even  greater  original  genius. 

Now  this  last  deed  of  the  poet  may  well  be  con- 
strued as  a  poetic  deed  of  which  the  poet  himself  is 
the  hero.  But  he  has  not  sung  this  his  ultimate  life- 
deed  in  his  own  name,  though  he  has  done  it,  and 
done  it  so  completely  that  his  resultant  school  has 
lasted  till  to-day  in  one  form  or  other.  For  are 
we  not  studying  him  just  now,  being  pupils  in  the 
school  of  Homer? 

So  we  are  next  to  conceive  and  to  construe,  if 
possible,  not  an  Iliad  or  Odyssey,  but  an  Homeriad, 
the  epic  of  Homer  as  poet,  how  he  got  to  be  what 
he  was,  winning  and  singing  the  grand  themes  of 
his  song,  till  he,  as  aged  bard,  looks  back  at  and 


Cexvi  HOMER'S  LIFE-LINES 

tells  of  himself  in  his  scholastic  retreat  at  Chios. 
Thus  he  is  shown  with  a  completed  self -evolution, 
whereof  he  casts  many  prophetic  gleams  in  his  two 
poems,  which  from  this  height  of  survey  will  again 
reveal  their  subtle  filaments  of  autobiography. 

But  in  what  form  is  such  a  poetic  record  of  the 
poet  himself  to  be  set  down?  Herein  he  has  given 
the  cue ;  the  singer  must  be  sung  about  in  his  own 
measure,  which  is  the  hexameter.  To  be  sure  his 
language  is  Greek,  while  ours  is  English;  but  the 
inner  music  of  that  antique  hexametral  movement 
can  certainly  be  suggested,  if  not  wholly  repro- 
duced in  our  Anglo-Saxon  speech.  Any  other  sort 
of  verse  for  the  present  theme  would  be  a  metrical 
misfit,  a  downright  rhythmic  discord  from  the  start, 
shocking  to  all  deeper  Homeric  attunement. 

There  has  been  much  controversy  over  the  use  of 
the  hexameter  for  English  verse,  and  two  opposite 
opinions  are  still  heard.  Here  is  not  the  place  for 
such  disputation.  As  to  ourselves,  however,  we 
employ  what  may  be  called  the  free  English  hexa- 
meter unfettered  by  strict  classic  precedent,  though 
we  preserve  the  recurrence  at  the  end  of  the  sixth 
measure.  Within  this  limit  each  foot  may  have  two 
or  three  syllables,  which  again  can  be  either  long 
or  short.  Not  pedantically  confined  to  dactyl  and 
spondee;  so  we  have  no  objection  to  the  anapest 
or  even  to  the  tribrach,  not  to  the  iamb  or  even  to 
the  pyrrhic.  In  fact  the  real  Homeric  hexameter 
can  be  shown  to  be  the  foregoing  free  hexameter, 
which  the  grammarians  and  especially  the  Latin 


THE  CHIAN  HOMER  ccxvii 

poets  headed  by  Virgil  have  thrust  into  its  classic 
straitcoat  of  prosody,  and  made  march  according  to 
the  strict  military  order  of  Roman  discipline.  The 
hexameter  adopted  in  the  following  poem  is,  there- 
fore, more  unfettered  than  the  one  prescribed  by 
the  well-known  rules  of  Matthew  Arnold,  or  even 
than  the  one  so  successfully  and  popularly  em- 
ployed by  Longfellow,  which  nevertheless  has 
roused  the  impotent  scorn  of  such  narrow  pre- 
cisians as  Swinburne  and  Saintsbury,  supposed 
leading  authorities  on  English  versification. 

It  remains  to  be  added  that  the  following  attempt 
to  reconstruct  the  Chian  period  of  Homer  reaches 
back  more  than  thirty  years  from  the  present  time, 
and  was  the  product  of  what  might  be  called  an 
Homeric  movement  in  the  West,  which  sought  to 
restore  the  old  poet  to  his  true  place  as  one  of  the 
Literary  Bibles  of  the  Race.  At  that  time  the  con- 
flict in  the  East  along  the  Trojan  battle-line  was 
quiescent,  though  not  without  menacing  murmurs. 
But  this  October  morning  of  1922,  while  taking  our 
last  piece  of  manuscript  to  the  printer,  we  read  in 
the  newspaper  that  not  merely  the  Greek  and  the 
Turk,  but  Europe  and  Asia  are  standing  in  hostile 
array,  with  weapons  pointed  at  each  other — where 
and  for  what  ?  The  first,  most  impressive,  and  still 
enduring  answer  to  both  questions  is  to  be  found 
in  Homer,  strangely  growing  more  and  more  pro- 
phetic in  his  poesy  with  the  fall  of  the  centuries. 


'r^trij 


HOMER  IN   CHIOS 


1. 

Old  Homer  shows  a  young  face  to  the  hoy^ 
And  hands  him  in  love  a  heautiful  toy; 
But  to  the  full  grown  man 
He  reveals  God's  plan. 

2. 

The  eye  was  begotten  a  sun-seer 
Else  it  could  never  see  the  light; 
The  soul  was  begotten  a  God-seer, 
Else  it  could  never  see  the  right. 

Appleseed's  Rhymes, 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress  in  the  year  1891, 

By  DENTON  J.  SNIDER, 

in  the  office  of  Librarian  of  Congress,  Washington. 


Salute  to  Chios. 


7.     The  Voyage. 

Hail,  0  Chios  of  Homer,  thou  risest  an  islanded 
poem 
Whose  weird  runes  from  my  boat  in  a  rapt  vision 
I  read. 
All  the   sea  is  a  smile  and   a  twinkle   is  every 
wavelet, 
Cheerily  flaps  the  white  sails  big  with  the  favor- 
ing breeze, 
And  the  ship — the  new  ship — plows  away  to  the 
goal  of  her  voyage, 
While  the  steersman  in  sport  dallies  with  water 
and  wind. 
Merrily  under  the  touch  of  the  rudder  is  rocking 
the  vessel. 
Rising  a  little  above,  falling  a  little  below. 
Daring  to  dance  on  the  sea  with  the  billow  and 
romp  with  the  sunbeam, 
While  the  wares  in  the  hold  safely  to  haven  it 
heaves. 
Sing,  Hexameter!  yours  is  the  voyage,  now  rock 
with  the  vessel. 
One  with  the  roll  of  the  waves,  one  with  the 
storm  and  the  calm. 

(ccxxi) 


CCXxii  HOMER   IN    CHIOS 

Be  ye  the  soul  at  the  helm,  and  be  too  the  voice 
of  the  helmsman, 
Be  ye  the  sea  and  its  song,  present  and  future 
and  past- 

//.     The  Sea-God  Appears. 

Royal  Poseidon  has  harnessed  his  horses  to  his 
blue  chariot, 
White  flow  their  manes  in  the  wind  as  iney  are 
racing  to  shore ; 
On  the  surface  they  play  with  the  infinite  move- 
ment of  water, 
Dancing  the  dance  of  the  sea  over  the  caroling 
waves ; 
But  as  soon  as   they  brush   underneath   on   the 
strand's  pebbly  bottom, 
Broken  and  foaming  they  fall  headlong  against 
the  hard  beach. 
Noble  thy  steeds,  0  Poseidon,  and  ever  the  more 
to  be  valued, 
That  no  feet  they  possess  which  can  step  out  of 
the  sea. 

///.     The  Sea  Festival. 

Festive  processions  of  Nereids  drawn  by  silver- 
reined  dolphins 
Wind  in  the  curls  of  the  sea,  curled  by  soft 
Zephyrus '  hand ; 
Shell-blowing  Tritons  rise  up  and  announce  the 
approach  of  Poseidon, 
Then  sink  under  the  tide  to  the  hoarse  note  of 
their  shells. 


PROLOGUE  ccxxiii 

Lbok  o'er  waves  to  the  line  of  yon  blue,   'tis  a 
festival  splendid, 
Thousand  of  deities  hoar  float  round  Poseidon's 
moist  car. 

IV.     Sea-horn  Aphrodite  Rises. 

There!  why  bursts  up   skyward  that   passionate 
mountain  of  sea-foam, 
In  whose  bosom  are  whirled  all  the  wild  shapes 
of  the  waves? 
Look !  a  white  statue  out  of  the  spray  is  gleaming 
like  marble 
Which  just  hewn  upheaves  from  the  hid  work- 
shop of  seas! 
Now  in  the  warring  waters  the  beautiful  Goddess 
of  Beauty 
High  on  her  pedestal  stands,  though  all  afloat  in 
her  love ! 

So  the  God's  trident  hath  not  the  sole  power  to 
rule  on  the  Ocean, 
For  a  fair  girdle  I  saw  fondled  and  kissed  by  the 
waves; 
Each   of  them   sought   it,   lovingly  pressed   it   a 
moment,  then  lost  it; 
0  the  great  hand  of  the  sea,  how  it  would  clutch 
for  the  prize. 
Trying  to  hold  in  its  watery  grasp  that   girdle 
inconstant. 
Which  through  its  fingers  would  slip— vain  was 
the  task  of  a  God. 


CCXxiv  HOMER  IN   CHIOS 

Laughing  it  swayed  to  the  rise  and  the  fall  of  the 
refluent  bosom 
Sprung  of  the  billowy  spume;  here  Aphrodite 
once  rose, 
Here  now  she  rises  again  from  the  wave  and  is  free 
of  her  sea-robe, 
Stands  at  the  helm  of  the  ship,  changes  its  course 
to  her  spell. 
Landing  she  leads  to  the  garden  where  dreams  the 
daughter  of  Homer, 
Beautiful  maiden  whose  love  still  is  the  poet's 
own  soul. 
Thus    slips    into    that    bower    of    bardlings    sly 
Aphrodite 
Who  as  Goddess  will  teach  even  in  Homer's  own 
school. 

V.    Homeric  Vision. 

Thou  must  behold  in  the  sea  not  merely  the  sea 
but  the  image 
Mirrored  down  in  the  deep,  changing  to  forms 
of  the  Gods ; 
Water,  as  water,  is  neutral,  is  nothing,  without  its 
reflection — 
N3anphs  gaily  plashing  the  brook,  Nereids  skim- 
ming the  seas. 
But  if  no  Deity  thou  canst  behold  in  the  rill  or  the 
ocean, 
Chios  will  flee  from  thy  look.  Homer  will  ban 
thee  unschooled. 


CONTENTS. 


I.  Mnemosyne. 

The  Making  of  the  Poet 5 

II.  Calliope. 

The  Call  of  the  Muse 27 

III.  Euterpe. 

The  Daughter  of  Homer 47 

IV.  Erato. 

The  Stranger  of  Northland.     .     .     .     63 

V.  Clio. 

The  Travels  of  Homer 85 

VI.  Terpsichore. 

The  Pedagogue  Chian.     .     .     .     .     .113 

VII.  Melpomene. 

The  Singer  of  Ascra 131 

VIII.  Thalia. 

The  Songstress  of  Lesbos 149 

IX.  Polyhymnia. 

The   Psalmist  of  Israel 173 

X.  Urania. 

The  Marriage.     .......     201 


The  Making  of  The  Poet. 


<«) 


ARGUMENT. 

HOMER^  the  poet,  having  returned  in  old  age  to 
Chios,  his  birth-place,  an  island  not  far  from  the  coast 
of  Asia  Minor,  tells  the  story  of  his  early  life  to  his 
pupils.  Two  chief  influences  wrought  tipon  his  child- 
hood. The  first  teas  that  of  the  smith,  Chalcon,  who 
was  both  artisan  and  artist— ^ both  vocations  in  early 
times  were  united  in  one  man  —  and  who  revealed  to 
the  budding  poet  the  forms  of  the  Gods.  The  second  in- 
fluence was  that  of  his  mother,  Cretheis  {name  given 
by  Herodotus,  Vita  Horn).  She  was  the  depository  of 
fable  andfolk-(,ore,  which  she  told  to  her  boy  in  the  spirit 
of  a  poet,  and  which  are  the  chief  materials  of  his  two 
great  poems.  So  Homer  reaches  back  to  his  earliest 
years  by  the  aid  of  Mnemosyne  {memory),  who  accord- 
ing to  Hesiod  (Theogon.  915)  was  the  mother  of  the 
Nine  Muses. 


(6) 


**  Fair  was  the  day  when  I  first  peeped  into  the 

workshop  of  Chalcon, 
Chalcon,  the  smith,  who  wrought  long  ago  in  the 

city  of  Chios ; 
Now  that  day  is  the  dawn  of  my  life,  which  I  yet 

can  remember, 
All  my  hours  run  back  to  its  joy  as  my  very  be- 
ginning, 
And  one  beautiful  moment  then  let  in  the  light 

of  existence, 
Starting  within  me  the  strain  that  thrills  through 

my  days  to  this  minute ! 
Still  the  old  flash  I  can  see  as  I  peeped  at  the 

door  of  the  workshop, 
Memory  whispers  the  tale  of  the  rise  of  a  world 

that  I  saw  there 
Memory,  muse  of  the  past,  is  whispering  faintly 

the  story. 
i  (7) 


8  HOMEB  IN  CHIOS. 

Chalcon  the  smith,  far-famed  in  the  sun-born 

island  of  Chios, 
Stood  like  a  giant  and  pounded  the  bronze  in  the 

smoke  of  his  smithy, 
Pounded  the  iron  until  it  would  sing  in  a  tune 

with  the  anvil, 
Sing  in  a  tune  with  the  tongs  and  the  anvil  and 

hammer  together. 
Making  the  music  of  work  that  rang  to  the  ends 

of  the  city. 
Figures  he  forced  from  his  soul  into  metal,  most 

beautiful  figures, 
Forced  them  by    fury  of  fire   beneath    cunning 

strokes  of  the  hammer ; 
As  he  thought  them,  he  wrought  them  to  loveliest 

forms  of  the  living. 
Wrought  them  to  worshipful  shapes  of  the  Gods, 

who  dwell  on  Olympus. 
That  was  when  I  was  still  but  a  child  in  the  home 

of  my  mother, 
Sole  dear  home  of  my  life,  the  home  of  Cretheis 

my  mother ! 
Only  two  doors  from  his  shop  with  its  soot  stood 

her  clean  little  cottage. 
Vainly  she  strove  to  restrain  her  clean  little  boy 

from  the  smithy, 
But  he  would  slip  out  the  house  and  away,  as 

soon  as  she  washed  him, 
Off  and  away  to  the  forge  just  where  the  smutch 

was  the  deepest. 


THE  MAKING  OF  THE  POET.  9 

How  I  loved  the  great  bellows  puffing  its  breath 

on  the  charcoal  I 
And  the  storm  of  the  sparkles  that  lit  up    the 

smithy  with  starlight! 
And  the  hiss  of  the  iron  red-hot  when  thrust  into 

water  I 
Greatest  man  in  the  world  I  deemed  at  that  time 

to  be  Chalcon, 
And  his  smithy  to  me  rose  up  a  second  Olym- 
pus, 
Where  the  Gods  and  the  Heroes  I  saw  move  forth 

into  being; 
Him  too  deemed  I  divine,  like  Hephaestus,  a  God 

in  his  workshop. 
As  he  thought,  so  he  wrought  —  he  pounded  and 

rounded  the  metal 
Till  it  breathed  and  would  move  of  itself   to  a 

corner  and  stand  there, 
Till  it  spoke,  and  speaking  would  point  up  beyond 

to  Immortals. 
Bare  to  the  waist  and  shaggy  the  breast  of  the 

big-boned  Chalcon, 
As  it  heaved  with  an  earthquake  of  joy  in  the 

shock  of  creation ; 
Thick  were  the  thews  of  his  arm  and  balled  at 

each  blow  till  his  shoulder. 
At  the  turn  of  his  wrist  great  chords  swelled  out 

on  his  fore-arm, 
One  huge  hand  clasped  the  grip  of  the  tongs  in 

its  broad  bony  knuckles. 


10  EOMEB  IN  CHIOS. 

Th' other  clutched  hold  of  the  sledge  and  whirled 

it  around  by  the  handle ; 
Shutting   his   jaws  like  a  lion,  and  grating  his 

teeth  in  his  fury, 
Whirled  he  the  ponderous  sledge  to  hit  in   the 

heat  of  the  iron  ; 
While  the  veins  underneath  would  heave  up  the 

grime  on  his  forehead, 
Smote  he  the  might  of  the  metal  with  all  the  grit 

of  a  Titan ; 
Working  mid  flashes  of  flame  that  leaped  out  the 

belly  of  darkness. 
Smote  he  and  sang  he  a  song  in  response  to  the 

song  of  his  hammer." 

So  spake  aged  Homer  us,  the  bard,  as  he  sat  in 

his  settle, 
W^here  grew  a  garden  of  fruit,  the  fig  and  the 

pear  and  the  citron. 
Grapes  suspended  in  clusters  and    trees  of   the 

luscious  pomegranate. 
He  had  returned  to  his  home  with  a  life  full  of 

light  and  of  learning ; 
Wandering  over  the  world,  he  knew  each  country 

and  city, 
Man  he  had  seen  in  the  thought  and  the  deed,  the 

Gods  he  had  seen  too ; 
Home  he   had   reached    once   more,  the   violet 

island  of   Chios, 
Blind,  ah  bhnd,  but  with  sight  in  his  soul  and  a 

sun  in  his  spirit. 


THE  MAKING  OF  THE  POET.  11 

Youths  were  standing  around  him  and  hearkened 

to  what  he  was  telling, 
Bright-eyed  youths,  who  had  come  to  his  knees 

from  each  region  of  Hellas, 
Homerids  hopeful  of  song,  the  sons  of  the  genius 

of  Homer, 
By  the  new  tale  of  Troy  inspired,  they  sought  to 

make  measures. 
Striving  to   learn   of    the   master   to  wield   the 

hexameter  mighty, 
As  high  Zeus  the  thunderbolt  wields  in  a  flash 

through  the  Heavens, 
Leaping  from  cloud  unto  cloud  and  leaving  long 

lines  of  its  splendor. 
Rolling   the  earth   in   its    garment  of    resonant 

reverberation. 
Luminous  too  was  the  look  of  the  boys,  lit  up 

by  the  Muses, 
Eager  they   turned  to  the  sage,  and  begged  for 

the  rest  of  his  story ; 
Soon  into  musical  words  he  began  again  spinning 

his  life-thread : 

**  Chalcon,  the  smith,  was  the  maker  of  Gods 

in  the  smoke  of  his  smithy  I 
Out  of  darkness  he  wrought  them,  out  of  chaos 

primeval. 
Striking  great  blows  that  lit  up  the  night  with 

the  sparks  of  creation 


12  HOMER  m  CHIOS, 

Which   would   flash  from  his    mind    into  metal 

through  strokes  of  the  hammer. 
Aye,  and  the  maker  of  me  in  his  Gods  he  was 

also  —  that  Chalcon; 
He   perchance  did  not  know  it  —  the  world  he 

was  mightily  making. 
All  the  Graces  he  wrought  into  shape,  and  loved 

as  he  wrought  them, 
And  the  Fates  he  could  form  in  his  need,  though 

he  never  did  love  them, 
But  the  snake-tressed  Furies  he  banished  in  hate 

from  his  workshop. 
I  could   always  forecast  what   he  wrought   and 

whether  it  went  well. 
Whether  full  freely  the  thought  ran  out  of  his 

soul  to  the  matter, 
For  he  would  sing  at  his  work  an  old  Prome- 
thean ditty. 
Tuneful,  far-hinting  it  poured  from  his  soul  into 

forms  of  his  God-world, 
Strong  deep  notes  which  seemed  to  direct  each 

sweep  of  the  hammer, 
Just  at  the  point  where  a  stroke  might  finish  the 

work  of  the  master. 
Or  a  blow  ill-struck  might  shatter  a  year  of  his 

labor. 
Then  bright  notes  would  well  from  within  as  he 

filed  and  he  chiseled. 
Seeking   to   catch   and   to   hold   in   a  shape  the 

gleam  of  his  genius. 


THE  MAKING  OF  THE  POET.  13 

Battles   he   pictured   in   silver   and   gold  on  the 

shield  of  the  warrior, 
Corselets    he   plaited   in   proof   and   swords   he 

forged  for  the  Hero, 
Many  a  goblet  he  made  wreathed  round  with  the 

frolic  of  Bacchus, 
All  the  Gods    he  could  fashion  to  life,  in  repose 

and  in  motion. 
Their  high  shapes  he  could  call  from  his  soul,  to- 
gether and  singly, 
Call  with  their  godhood  down  from  ihe  heights  of 

the  radiant  Heavens, 
Till  the   dingy   old  smithy  shot  into  Olympian 

sunshine. 
Chalcon,   Oh   Chalcon,  me  thou  hast  formed  in 

forming  Immortals, 
And  the  song  of  tliy  hammer  I  hear  \\\  the    ring 

of  my  measures. 
Oft  I  can  feel  thee  striking  thy  anvil   still  in  my 

heart-strokes. 
Which  are  forging  my  strains  like  thee  when  thou 

smotest  the  metal. 
Till   it  rang  and  it  sang  the  strong  tune  of   the 

stress  of  thy  labor. 
Chalcon,  thy  workshop  went  with  me  in  every 

turn  of  my  travel. 
Through  the  East  and  the  West  of   wide  Hellas, 

through  island  and  mainland. 
Through  the  seas  in  the  storm,  through  mount- 
ains rolling  in  thunder, 


14  HOMEB  IN  CHIOS. 

With  rae  it  went   in  my  wandering,  e'en  to  the 

top  of  Olympus : 
Never  thy  shapes  shall  fade  from  the  sight  of  my 

soul,  Oh  Chalcon." 

Quickly  the  poet  turned  round  in  his  scat  mid 

said  to  his  servant: 
**  Come,  Amyntas  my  boy,  now  bring  some  wine 

in  my  goblet, 
Chian  wine  in  my  goblet  wrought  by  the  cunning 

of  Chalcon, 
Which  he  gave  to  me  once  when  I  sang  him  my 

earliest  measures, 
Round  which  are  dancing  the  youths  at  the  tast- 
ing the  must  of  the  wine-press, 
While  the  God  overgrown  with  leaves  and  with 

vines  looks  laughing; 
Chalcon  gave  it  me  once  as  a  prize  when  I  sang 

in  his  workshop. 
Sang  him  my  earliest  measures  in  tune  to   the 

strokes  of  his  hammer.*' 

Beardless  Amyntas,  the  cup  bearer,  brought  the 
chalice  of  Chian, 

Choicest  of  wine,  that  sparkled  and  danced  on 
the  rim  of  the  chalice. 

Draught  of  the  sea,  and  the  earth,  and  the  sun- 
shine together  commingled, 

Liquid  poesy,  stealthily  sung  in  each  drop  by  the 
wine-god. 


THE  MAKING  OF  THE  POET.  15 

Softly  the  singer  sipped  off  the  glittering  beads 

of  the  beaker, 
Touching  his  lip  to  the  line  where  the  rim   and 

the  brim  come  together, 
Where  flash  twinkles  of  joy  and  laugh  in  the  eye 

of  the  drinker. 
That    was  the    essence    of  Chios  distilled  from 

the  heart  of  her  mountains. 
Tempered  hot  in  the  fires  that  smoulder  still  in 

the  soil  there, 
Drawn  by  the  grape  into  drops  that  shoot  into 

millions  of  sparkles, 
Generous  vintage  of  Chios,  renewing  the  heart  of 

the  singer. 

When  his  thirst  he  had  slaked  and  his  thought 

had  returned  to  his  thinking, 
Sweetly  he  lowered  his  voice  to  the  note  of  a  mu- 
sical whisper, 
And  he  bent  forward  his  body  as    if    he    were 

telling  a  secret : 
**Once,  I  remember,  Chalcon  was  making  a  group 

of  the  Muses, 
Sacred  givers  of  song,  to  be  borne  to  a  festival 

splendid. 
Where     each    singer    had  in  their    presence  to 

sing  for  the  laurel. 
What  do  you  think  he  did  as  I  stood  with  him 

there  in  the  smithy? 


16  HOMEB  IN  CHIOS, 

Me  he  turned  into  bronze,  and  put  me  among  the 

Nine  Sisters, 
As  if  I  their  young  brother  might  be,  their  one 

only  brother; 
In  the  center  he  placed  me,  aye  in  the  heart   of 

the  Muses, 
Sweet  Calliope  kissed  me  there  in  the  workshop 

of  Chalcon, 
Even  in  bronze  I  could  feel  her  embrace    on  that 

day — I  now  feel  it — 
And  I  could  hear  her  soft  breathings  that  told  of 

the  deeds  of  the  Heroes. 
Still  I  can  feel,  e'en  though  I  be  old,  the  kiss  of 

the  Muses, 
And  at  once  I  respond  to  their  music  in  words  of 

my  measures. 
Yielding  my  htart  and  my  voice  to  their  prompt- 
ings and  gentle  persuasion. 

0  good  Chalcon,  memory  keeps  thee  alive,  as  I 

love  thee  I 
Keeps  thee  working  in  me  as  the  maker  who  is 

the  poet ; 
Ever   living  thou  art  in  thy  glorious  shapes  of 

Immortals, 
Though  thou,  a  mortal  by  Fate,  hast  gone  to  the 

Houses  of  Hades, 
Whither  I  too  must  soon  go  —  the  call  I  can 

hear  from  the  distance, 

1  too  a  mortal  by  Fate  must  pass  to  the  shades 

of  my  Heroes." 


THE  MAKING  OF  THE  POET,  17 

There  he  paused  on  the  tremulous  thought  of  a 

hope  and  a  sorrow, 
And  the  sweet  word  died  away  on  his  lips  thrown 

far  in  the  future. 
Hark!  the  voice  of  a  song  creeps  into  the  house 

of  Homerus, 
Filling  his  home  with  love  and  with  life  to  the 

measure  of  music, 
Fresh  from  the  youth  of  the  heart,  the  fountain 

of  hope  everlasting. 
Though    unseen    the     sweet    singer,    hidden  in 

leaves  of  an  arbor, 
All  the  youths  well  knew  who  it  was,  and  stood 

for  a  moment. 
Bating  the  breath  and  bending  the  head  to  listen 

the  better. 
And  to  quaff  each  note  to  the  full,  for  the  voice 

that  was  siiiojinoj 
Poured  out  the  soul  of  a  maiden,  the  beautiful 

daughter  of  Homer, 
Whom  those  boys  were  more  eager  to  hear  than 

to  study  their  verses, 
Aye,  more    eager    to    hear  the    daughter  than 

hearken  the  father. 

He,  when  the  strain  had  ceased,  with  a  sigh 
broke  into  the  silence : 
**  Ah !  the  fleet  years !  how  like  is  that  note  to 
the  note  of  my  mother, 
2 


18  HOMEB  IN  CHIOS. 

As  she  hymned  to  her    work  or  sang  me  to  sleep 

on  her  pallet  I 
Early  my  father  had  died,  his  face  I  no  longer 

remember, 
But  the  voice  which  speaks  when   I  speak  from 

my  heart  is  always  — 
Well  do  I  know  it  —  the  voice  of  my    mother, 

Cretheis  my  mother  ! ' ' 

Overmastered  a  moment  by  tears,  he  soon 
overmastered 

All  of  the  weaker  man  in  himself,  and  thus  he 
proceeded : 

*'  I  was  telling  the  tale  of  the  wonderful  work- 
shop of  Chalcon, 

Where  I  saw  all  the  deities  rise  into  form  in 
a  rapture, 

Coming  along  with  their  sunshine  to  stand  in  the 
soot  of  the  smithy, 

Happy  Olympian  Gods  who  once  fought  and  put 
down  the  dark  Titans. 

Bearing  their  spell  in  my  soul,  I  always  went 
home  to  my  mother. 

And  I  would  beg  her  to  tell  me  who  were  the 
Gods  and  the  Muses, 

All  this  beautiful  folk  whom  Chalcon  had  brought 
from  the  summits, 

From  free  sunny  Olympus  down  into  the  smoth- 
ering smithy. 


THE  MAKING  OF  THE  POET.  19 

She  would  becrjn  with  a  glow  in  her  eyes  and  tell 
me  their  story. 

Meanwhile  plying  the  distaff  —  she  never  could 
help  being  busy  — 

All  of  their  tales  she  knew,  by  the  hundreds  and 
hundreds  she  knew  them. 

Tales  of  the  beings  divine,  once  told  of  their 
dealings  with  mankind, 

When  they  came  to  our  earth  and  visibly  mingled 
with  mortals. 

New  was  always  the  word  on  the  tongue  of 
Cretheis  my  mother. 

Though  she  dozens  of  times  before  had  told  the 
same  story, 

Still  repeating  when  I  would  call  for  it,  ever  re- 
peating, 

For  a  good  tale,  like  the  sun,  doth  shine  one  day 
as  the  other. 

What  a  spell  on  her  lip  when  up  from  her  lap  I 
was  looking. 

Watching  her  mouth  in  its  motion,  whence  drop- 
ped those  wonderful  stories ! 

Oft  I  thought  I  could  pick  up  her  word  in  my 
hand  as  it  fell  there. 

Keep  it  and  carry  it  off,  for  my  play  a  most  beau- 
tiful plaything. 

Which  I  could  toss  on  the  air  when  I  chose,  like 
a  ball  or  an  apple. 

Catch  it  again  as  it  fell  in  its  flight,  for  the  word 
was  a  thing  then. 


20  HOMEB  IN  CHIOS. 

Mark!  what  I  as  a  child  picked  up,  the  old  man 

still  plays  with : 
Words  made  of  breath,  but  laden  with  thought 

more  solid  than  granite, 
Pictures  of   heroes   in   sound   that   lasts,    when 

spoken,  forever, 
Images   fair  of  the  world  and  marvelous  legends 

aforetime. 
All  of  them  living  in  me  as  they  fell  from  the 

lips  of  my  mother." 

There  he  stopped  for  a  moment  and  passed  his 

hand  to  his  forehead. 
As  if  urging  Mnemosyne  now    for  the  rest  of 

the  story; 
Soon  came  the  Muse  to  the  aid  of  the  poet,  and 

thus  he  continued : 
**  How  she  loved  the  songs  of   old  Hellas,  and 

loved  all  its  fabling ! 
Well  she  could  fable  herself  and  color  her  speech 

with  her  heai-t-beats. 
I  have  known  her   to   make  up   a   myth   which 

spread  through  all  Chios, 
Thence  to  island  and  mainland  wherever  Hellenic 

is  spoken. 
Once  I  heard  far  out  by  the  West  in  a  town  of 

Zakynthus, 
At  a  festival  one   of  her  lays,   which  I  knew  in 

my  cradle, 


THE  MAKING  OF  THE  POET.  21 

Sung  by  the  bard  of  the  town  as  his  guerdon  of 

song  from  the  Muses. 
Ana  now  let  me  confess,  too,  my  debt,  the  debt 

of  my  genius ! 
Many  a  flash  of  the  fancy  is  hers  which  you  read 

in  my  poems. 
Many  a  roll  of  the  rhythm,  and  many  a  turn  of 

the  language, 
Many  a  joy  she  has  given,  and  many  a  tear  she 

has  dropped  there. 
Merciful  sighs  at  the  stroke  of  grim  Fate  on  the 

back  of  the  mortal  — 
All  are  remembrances  fallen  to   me  from  the  lips 

of  my  mother.'* 

For  a  moment   he  ceased,  till  he   gathered   his 

voice  into  firmness, 
Smoothing  the  tremulous  trill   that  welled  from 

his  heart  into  wavelets, 
Smoothing  and   soothing  the  quivering  thoughts 

which  Memory  brought  him  : 
'*  Hard   was  her  lot,    she    had   to   work   daily 

through  Chios  by  spinning. 
For   herself  and  her  boy  she  fought  the  rough 

foes  of  existence. 
Making  her  living  by  toil  that  flew  from  the  tips 

of  her  fingers. 
Deft  and  swift  m  the  cunning   which  gives   all 

its  worth  unto  labor. 


22  HOMER  IN  CUIUS. 

Yet   more  cunning  she  showed   in    spinning  the 

threads  of  a  story 
Till  they  all  came  together  forming  a  garment  of 

beauty, 
Than  in  twirling  the  distaff  and  reeling  the  yarn 

from  the  spindle. 
But  she  too,  my  poor   mother,  was  laid   in   the 

earth,  as  was  fated. 
For  the  Fates  span  out  the  frail  thread  of  her 

life  at  their  pleasure." 

Here  again  the  old  man  made  a  stop  with  a 

gaze  in  his  features 
As  if  prying  beyond  to   behold  the  unspeakable 

secret ; 
But  he  came   back  to  himself  with  a  joy  in  his 

look  and  continued : 
**  It  was  she  who  gave  me  the  love   and  the  lore 

of  the  legend. 
Training  my  youth  to  her  song  which   throbbed 

to  the  best  of  the  ages  — 
All  the  great  men  of  the  Past  and  great  women, 

the  mothers  of  Heroes. 
Do  you  know  it  was  she  who   first  told  me  the 

story  of  Thetis  — 
Thetis   the  Goddess-Mother,  whose  son  was  the 

Hero  Achilles? 
Tenderly  told  she  the  tale  of  the  boy  who  was 

born  to  do  great  things. 


THE  MAKIJSG   OF  THE  POET.  23 

Who  from  his  birth  had  in  him  the  spark  divine 

of  his  mother, 
Though  he  had  to  endure  all  the  sorrow  of  being 

a  hero, 
Suffer  the  pang   that   goes  with  the  gift    of   the 

Gods  to  a  mortal. 
Then  in   a  frenzy  of  hope  she  would  clasp  me 

unto  her  bosom. 
Dreaming  the  rest  of  her  dream  in  the  soft  in- 
spiration of  silence, 
Yet  you  could  see  what  it  was  by  the  light  1  hat 

was  lit  in  her  presence. 
See  it  all  by  the  light  of  her  soul  that  shone  from 

her  visage. 
Once  in  her  joy  she  arose   with  her  arms  out- 
stretched mid  her  story. 
Showing  how  Thetis  arose  from  the  deeps  in  a 

cloud  o'er  the  billow, 
That  she,  the  Goddess,  might  secretly  take  her 

son  to  her  bosom. 
To  impart  what  was  best  of  herself  —  the  godlike 

endurance  — 
And  to  arouse  in  him  too  the  new  valor  to  meet 

the  great  trial. 
O  fond  soul  of  my  mother,  how   well  that  day 

I  remember, 
When  thou  toldest  the  tale  of  the  bees  that  flew 

to  my  cradle, 
Dropping  out  of  the  skies  on  a  sudden  along  with 

the  sunbeams, 


24  HOMEB  IN  CHIOS. 

Humming  and  buzzing  through  all  of  the  house 

as  if  they  were  swarming, 
Till  they  lit  on  my  lips  as  I  slept  but  never  once 

stung  me, 
Never  stung  thee,  though  running  around  in  thy 

fright  to  defend  me, 
Smiting  and  slashing  with  stick  or  with  rag  or 

whatever  came  handy. 
Scorching  at  last  their  leathery  wings  with  their 

own  waxen  tapers  ! 
But  ere  they  flew,  in  spite  of  the  fire  and  fight  of 

the  household, 
They  had  left  on  my  lips  their  cells  of  the  clear- 
flowing  honey, 
Honey  clear-flowing  and  sweet,  though  bitter  the 

struggle  to  give  it; 
Even  the  bees  had  to  pay  for  giving  the  gift  of 

their  sweetness. 

Then  wert thou  happy,  Cretheis,  then  wert  thou 
sad  too,  my  mother, 

Pensive,  forethinking  afar  on  what  the  God  had 
intended, 

Who  had  sent  the  dumb  bee  to  speak  as  a  sign 
unto  mortals. 

What  thy  son  was  to  do  and  endure  flashed  into 
thy  vision. 

Double  that  flash  of  the  future,  joyful,  sorrow- 
ful also, 


THE  MAKING   OF   THE  POET.  25 

And  thou  didst  say  to  thyself  and  the  God,  bend- 
ing over  to  kiss  me : 

*  Let  it  fall  —  the  lot  of  his  life  ;  I  feel  what  is 
coming : 

He  must  distil  from  the  earth  into  speech  all  the 
sweetness  of  living, 

He  must  pour  from  his  heart  into  song  all  the 
nectar  of  sorrow ; 

Let  it  fall  —  the  lot  of  his  life ;  though  hard  be 
the  trial, 

Always  there  will  be  left  on  his  lips  the  hive  of 
its  honey.'  *' 


n. 


The    Call  of  The   Muse. 


(27) 


ARGUMENT. 

Homer  now  tells  the  third  chief  injluence  which  helped 
make  him  a  poet.  This  influence  was  the  hard  of  the 
town^  Ariston,  who  sang  on  the  borderland  between 
East  and  West,  but  was  not  able  to  sing  of  the  great  con- 
flict between  Troy  and  Greece.  It  was  Ariston  who 
suggested  this  theme  to  Homer,  and  bade  the  youth  go 
out  fo  the  sea-shore,  where  was  the  cave  of  the  Muses, 
and  listen  to  the  voice  which  would  speak  to  him  there. 
Calliope,  the  epic  Muse,  appears  to  him,  tells  him  what 
he  must  do  and  suffer,  and  inspires  him  with  his  great 
vocation.  He  goes  home  to  his  mother  and  tells  her 
what  the  Muse  has  said  to  him ;  his  mother  after  a  short 
internal  struggle,  bids  him  goat  once  and  follow  the  call 
of  the  Muse, 


(28) 


Thus  to   the  whisper  of  fleeting   Mnemosyne, 

mother  of  Muses, 
Homer  was  yielding  his  heart  and  shaping  her 

shadowy  figures. 
While   he   was  speaking,  rose  up  the  roar  of  the 

sea  in  the  distance, 
Which  an  undertone  gave  to  his  measures,  mighty, 

majestic, 
Wreathing  the  roll  of  its  rhythm  in  words  of  the 

tale  he  was  telling. 
Giving   the    musical  stroke  of  its  waves   to  the 

shore  of  the  island, 
Giving  the  stroke  for  the   song  to  the  beautiful 

island  of  Chios. 
All  the  sea  was  a  speech,  and  spoke  in  the  lan- 
guage of  Homer, 

(29) 


30  HOMEli  IS   CHIOS. 

Aye,  the  Mgenn  spoke  Greek,  and  sang  the  re- 
frain of  great  waters, 

All  the  billows  were  singing  that  day  hexameters 
rolling. 

Rolling  afar  from  the  infinite  sea  to  the  garden 
of  Homer. 

Stopped  in  the  stretch  of  his  thought  the  poet 

lay  back  in  his  settle. 
Seemingly  lost  in  the  maze  where  speech  fades  out 

into  feeling ; 
He  was  silent  awhile,  though  not  at  the  end  of 

his  story. 
Aged  and  blind  he  was  now,  recalling  the  days 

of  his  boyhood. 
When  he  saw  all  the  world  of  fair  forms,  as  it 

rose  up  in  Hellas, 
Rise   from  the  hand  of  the  smith  and  rise  from 

the  lips  of  his  mother. 
Saw  too  himself  in  the  change  of  the  years  be- 
coming the  singer. 

Soon  spake  a  youth  at  his  side,  it  was  the  best 

of  his  pupils. 
Called  Demodocus,  son  of  Demodocus,  Ithacan 

rhapsode. 
Who  belonged  to  an  ancestry  born  into  song  from 

old  ages : 
**Did  you  have  no  bard  of  the  village,  no  teacher 

of  measures, 


THE   CALL   OF   THE  MUSE,  31 

Who  could  melt  the  rude  voice  of  the  people  to 

rhythm  of  music? 
Men  of  that  strain  we  have  in  our  Ithaca,  they 

are  my  clansmen. 
Still  I  follow  the  craft,  and  to  thee,  best  singer, 

I  come  now, 
That  I  be  better  than   they,  far  better  in  song 

than  my  fathers.'' 

Here  he  suddenly  stopped  and  glanced  out  into 

the  garden, 
For  there  flitted  an    airy  form  of  a  maid  in  the 

distance. 
Going     and     coming    amid    the    flowers — the 

daughter  of  Homer, 
Whom  Demodocus  loved  and  sought  as  the  meed 

of  his  merit. 
He  would  carry  away  not  only  the  verse  of  the 

master, 
But  would  take,  in  the  sweep  of  his  genius,  also 

the  daughter. 
Yet  the  maiden  held  off,  declaring  the  youth  was 

conceited. 

But  the  father  in  words  of  delight  replied  to 

his  scholar: 
**  Well  bethought !  a  good  learner!  thou  thinkest 

ahead  of  the  teacher  ! 
Just  of  the  bard  I  was  going  to  speak,  he  rose  in 

my  mind's  eye 


32  HOMER  m  CHIOS. 

Suddenly  with  thy  question  —  the  face  and  the 
form  of  Ariston. 

Every  day  I  went  to  the  place  of  the  market  to 
hear  him  — 

Deep-toned  Ariston,  the  singer  of  praises  to  Gods 
and  to  Heroes, 

Chanting  the  fray  and  the  valorous  deed  in  the 
ages  aforetime, 

While  the  crowd  stood  around  in  reverent  si- 
lence and  listened. 

He  was  the  bard  of  the  town,  he  knew  what  had 
been  and  will  be, 

Knew  the  decree  of  Zeus  and  could  read  it  out  of 
the  Heavens, 

Knew  too,  the  heart  of  man,  and  could  tell  e very- 
thought  in  its  throbbing. 

At  the  festivals  sang  he  through  all  of  the  ham- 
lets of  Chios, 

He  was  the  voice  of  the  isle,  the  mythical  hoard 
of  old  treasures; 

Song  and  story  and  fable,  even  the  jest  and  the 
riddle  — 

All  were  his  charge  and  his  choice,  by  the  care 
and  the  call  of  the  Muses. 

High  beat  his  heart  as  he  poured  out  its  music 
singing  of  Heroes, 

Every  word  ot  his  voice  was  a  tremulous  pulse- 
beat  of  Hellas, 

Doomful  the  struggle  he  saw  in  the  land  and  fate- 
ful its  Great  Men. 


THE   CALL    OF   THE  MUSE.  33 

Often  he  sang  the  sad  lot  of  Bellerophon,  hero 
of  Argos, 

Who  once  crossed  to  the  Orient,  leaving  the 
mainland  of  Europe, 

Quitting  his  home  in  the  West  for  the  charm  of 
a  Lycian  maiden. 

Daughter  fair  of  the  king  who  dwelt  by  the  ed- 
dying Xanthus. 

Many  a  demon  he  slew,  destroying  the  shapes  of 
the  ugly, 

Savages  tamed  he  to  beautiful  law,  and  the  law, 
too,  of  beauty. 

Monsters,  Chimeras,  wild  men  and  wild  women 
he  brought  to  Greek  order, 

Amazons  haters  of  husbands,  and  Solymi  mount- 
aineers shaggy. 

But  the  Hero,  for  such  is  his  fate,  sank  to  what 
he  subjected. 

In  the  success  of  his  deed  he  lapsed  and  fell  under 
judgment, 

Hateful  to  Gods  is  success,  though  much  it  is 
loved  by  us  mortals. 

Victory  is  the  trial,  most  hard  in  the  end  to  the 
victor. 

Such   was  the  strain   of  Ariston,  here  on   the 

borderland  singing 
Where  two  continents  stand  and  look  with  a  scowl 

at  each  other 
Over  the  islanded  waters,  ready  to  smite  in  the 

struggle. 


34  HOMEB  IN  CHIOS. 

Every  Greek  in  our  Chios  then  heard   Bellero- 

phon's  echo, 
Heard  in  the  deep-sounding  name  of  the  Hero  an 

echo  that  thrilled  him, 
Felt  in  his  bosom  the  reverberation  of  Bellero- 

phontes. 
For  he  could  find  in  himself  the  same  peril  of 

lapsing  from  Hellas, 
Sinking  to  Asia  back  from  the  march  of  the  world 

to  the  westward." 

Sympathy  touched  in  its  tenderest  tone  the 

voice  of  Homerus, 
As  his  words  sank  down  at  the  end  of  the  line  to 

a  whisper, 
Then  to  a  silence,  the  silence  of  thought,  which 

spoke  from  his  presence. 
What  was  the  matter  with  Homer,  and  why  that 

shadow  in  sunshine? 
Did  he  find  in  his  own  Greek  soul  a  gleam  of  the 

danger? 
Did  his  poetical  heart  then  enter  the  trance  of 

temptation  ? 
He  must  respond  to  the  passion,  aye  to  the  guilt, 

in  his  rapture, 
He  must  glow  with  the  deed  of  the  Hero,  even 

the  wrongful. 
Never  forgetting  the  law,  and  sternly  pronounc 

ing  the  judgment. 


THE   CALL   OF   THE  MUSE.  35 

Soon  he  rallied  and  rose,  and  his  voice  returned 

with  his  story  : 
**  Well  I  knew  the  old  man  and  eagerly  stored  up 

his  treasures, 
Aged  Ariston  loved  me,  and  made  me  h'is  daily 

companion, 
I  was  his  scholar,  perchance,  as  ye  are  now  in  my 

training. 
Once  in  a  mutual  moment  of  freedom  I  ventured 

to  ask  him : 
*  O  my  Ariston,  sing   me   to-day  the   new  song 

of  our  nation. 
Born  of  the  deed,  the  last  great  deed  we  have  all 

done  together, 
All  the  Hellenes  have  done  it,  methinks,  in  the 

might  of  one  impulse, 
Fighting  our  destiny's  fight  to  possess  and  pre- 
serve the  new  future. 
Saving  the  beautiful  woman  and  saving  ourselves 

in  her  safety ; 
That  is  the  deed  of  Troy  and  its  lay  of  the  Hero 

Achilles ! 
Seek  not  so  far  for  an  action  when  near  in  thy 

way  is  the  greatest.' 

Thus  I  spake,  and  his  face  on  the  spot  turned 
into  a  battle. 
'  Ah  !  '    he  replied  '  too   near  me    it   lies,   just 
that  is  the  hindrance  ! 


3G  HOMEB  liV  CHIOS. 

I   must  leave  it  behind  to  another,  for  I  cannot 

touch  it; 
Still  my  heart  is   cleft  by  that  terrible  struggle 

asunder, 
Wounded  I  v;^as  in  the  strife,  remediless  still  I  am 

bleeding. 
Cureless    I   feel   it  to  be  —  that  wound  of   the 

Greeks  and  the  Trojans  ! 
I  was  on  both  sides  during  the  war,  and  yet  upon 

neither. 
Standing  aloof  from  each,  yet  standing  with  one 

and  the  other. 
With  father  Priam  of  Troy  as  well  as  with  Greek 

Agamemnon  — 
Tossed  to  this  part  or  that,  and  torn  into  shreds 

by  the  Furies; 
Greeks  had  my  brain  on  their  side,  the  Trojans 

had  hold  of  my  heart-strings  ; 
With  that  breach  in  my  soul,  how  could  I  make 

any  music? 
I  cannot  stand  the  stress,  the  horrible  stress  of 

the  struggle 
Always  renewed  in  my  song  whose  every  word  is 

a  blood-stain. 
But  hereafter  the  man  will  arise  who  is  able  to 

sing  it, 
Healing  the  wound   in   himself    and   the   time, 

which  in  me  is  unhealing; 
One  shall  come  and  sing  of  that  mightiest  deed 

of  the  Argives, 


THE   CALL   OF   THE  MUSE.  37 

He  shall  arise,  the  poet  of  Hellas  —  the  man  hath 

arisen 
Who  will  take  it  and  mould  it  and  make  it  the 

song  of  the  ages. 
Youth,  be  thou  singer  of  Troy  and  the  war  for 

the  beautiful  Helen, 
Sing  of  the  Hero  in  wrath,  and   reconciled    sing 

of  the  Hero ! ' 

Thus  spoke  Ariston  the  bard ;  what  a  life  he 
started  within  me ! 

Chaos  I  was,  but  the  sun  of  a  song  had  smitten 
the  darkness. 

And  my  soul  bore  a  universe,  with  one  word  as  a 
midwife. 

That  was  the  word  of  the  poet,  who  spoke    as 
the  maker  primeval, 

Calling  the  sun  and  the  earth  from  the  void,  and 
the  firmament  starry. 

Always  welfare  he  brought  to  the   people  who 
hearkened  his  wisdom. 

And  he  was  ever  alive  with  the  thought  of  bring- 
ing a  blessing. 

Climbing  the  height  of  the  highest  Gods,  where 
dwells  freedom  from  envy. 

After  deep  silence,  the  mother  of  good,  he  sol- 
emnly added: 

*  Now  is    the  moment  to    seek  the   divinity's 
sign  for  thy  calling. 


38  HOMEB  IN   CHIOS. 

Godlike  the  token  must  be,  for  of  Gods  is   the 

breath  of  the  sin<^er  ; 
Go  to  the  grot  of  the  sweet- voiced  Muses  down 

by  the  sea-side 
Where  old  Nereus  scooped  out  of  stone  his  son- 
orous cavern, 
Sounding  the  strains  of  a  lyre  that  is  played  by 

the  hands  of  great  waters. 
As  they  incessantly  strike  on  the  sands  and  the 

shells  and  the  rock  walls, 
Reaching  out  from  the   heart  of  the  sea  for   a 

stroke  of  their  fingers. 
Just  for  one  stroke  of  their  billowy  fingers,  then 

broken  forever. 
Playing   the  notes  of   a  song  that  can  only  be 

heard  by  a  poet. 
There  thou  wilt  hear,  if  it  also  be  thine,  the  voice 

of  the  Muses, 
Who   will  give  thee  their  golden  word  and  the 

high  consecration ; 
But  if  it  be  not  within  thee  already,  they  will  be 

silent, 
Silence  is  the  command  of  the  God  to  seek  them 

no  further; 
Then  thou  wilt  hear  in  their  house  by  the  sea  but 

a  roar  and  a  rumble, 
But  a  roar  and  a  rumble  of  godless   waters  in 

discord; 
Wheel  about  in  thy  tracks,  perchance  thou  wilt 

make  a  good  cobbler.* 


THE   CALL   OF   THE   MUSE.  39 

Not  yet  cold  was  the  word  when  I  started  and 

came  to  the  cavern', 
Set  with  many  a  glistening  gem  overhead  in  the 

ceiling, 
Decked   with   sculpture  of  stone   cut  out  on  its 

sides  by  the  Naiads, 
Making  a   gallery  fair  of  the  forms  of  the  Gods 

of  the  waters. 
Round  whose  feet  mid  the  tangle  and  fern  were 

playing  the  mermaids. 
Smiting  the  wine-dark  deep,  as  they  dived  from 

the  sight  of  the  sea-boys, 
Smiting  the  blue-lit  billows   above  into  millions 

of  sparkles. 
Into  millions  of  cressets  that  lit   up  the  cavern 

like  starlight. 
Secret  cavern  of  love  for  the  nymphs,  the  watery 

dwellers. 
Echoing  music  afar  of  the  kiss  of  the  earth  and 

the  ocean. 
Well  I  knew  the   recess    for   often  before  I    had 

been  there, 
Oft  I  had  heard  the  report  that  told  of  the   sil- 
very swimmers, 
Told  of  the  maidens   and  youths  who  loved  far 

under  the  billows. 
Loved  one  another  far  under  the  billows  and  sang 

the  sweet  love  song, 
Swimming  around  in  the  grots  and  the  groves  of 

deep  Amphitrite, 


40  UOMEB  IN"  CHIOS. 

Or  reclining  to  rest  on  the  couch  of  the  pearl  or 
the  coral. 
There  I  had  seen  in  the  sunset  the  car  of  hoary- 
Poseidon, 

Skimming  across  the  wave  with  his  train  to  his 
watery  temple 

Over  the  golden  bridge  of  the  sunbeams  that  lay 
on  the  ripples. 

Bridge  that  lay  on  the  ripples  ablaze  in  the  sheen 
of  Apollo, 

Spanning  the  stretch  of  the  sea  from  Chios  away 
to  the  sundown. 
There  I  had  seen  old  Proteus,  changeful  God  of 
the  waters, 

Forming,  transforming   himself,  the    one,  into 
shapes  of  all  being. 

Into  the  leaf-shaking  tree  and  into  the  shaggy- 
mancd  lion, 

Creeping  reptile,  blazing  fire,  and  flowing  water; 

Still    1   saw   him,  the   one  and  the  same,  under- 
neath all  his  changes. 
There  I  had  seen  the  beautiful  Nereid,  daugh- 
ter of  Nereus, 

Chased  by  the  sinuous  Triton,  the  man  of  the  sea 
in  his  passion, 

Who  would  snort  in  his  fury  whenever  the  mer- 
maid escaped  him, 

Spouting  the  foam  of  his  rage  up  into  the  face 
of  the  heavens, 


THE   GALL    OF   THE  MUSE.  41 

Rising  and  shaking  his  billowy  curls  and  blowing 
his  sea-horn. 

There  I  lay  down  on  a  pallet  of  stone  and  slid 

into  slumber, 
While  I  was  sleeping,  stood  up  before  rae  a  troop 

of  fair  women, 
Nine  of  them,  sisters  who  sang  in  a  circle,  they 

were  the  Muses, 
Singing  along  with    their  mother,   Mnemosyne, 

who  was  the  tenth  one, 
Who  would  always  give  them  the    hint  of  the 

matter  and  music. 
Looking  backward    she   gave  to   the  Muses  the 

beat  of  the  present. 
Soon  they  arose  into  beautiful  shapes  from  the 

strains  of  the  cavern, 
Quite   as  once  I  hud    seen  them    arise    in    the 

smithy  of  Chalcon, 
Taking   divinity's    form  in    the  strokes    of  his 

dexterous  hammer. 
One  of  them    stepped    from    the    group,    alto- 
gether the  tallest  and  fairest. 
And  she  kissed  me ;  it  was  Calliope  who  in  the 

cavern 
Gave  me  again  the    sweet   kiss    that  I    felt    in 

the  smoke  of  the  smithy; 
But  her  lips  began  moving  with    words  in  the 

twilight  of  dreamland, 


42  EOMEB  m  CHIOS. 

And  with  a  smile  she  stretched  out  her  hand  and 

spake  me  her  message  : 
*  Hail,  O  son  of  Cretheis,  doubly  the  son  of  thy 

mother, 
Son  of  her  mythical  soul  and  son  of  her  beautiful 

body, 
Hearken,   dear  youth,  to  our  call,  for  thou  hast 

been  chosen  the  master, 
Thee   we   endow  with  all  of  our  gifts  of  speech 

and  of  spirit, 
But  take  heed  of  the  warning,  henceforth  be  ready 

to  suffer ; 
Mark  it !     along  with  each  gift  the  Gods  have  a 

penalty  given, 
For  each   good  that   they   grant  unto   mortals, 

strict  is  the  payment ; 
Not   without   toil  is  the  gift  of  the  Muses,  not 

without  sorrow ; 
Nay,  a  Fury  is  thine,  called  Sympathy,  rending 

thy  bosom. 
Making  the   fate  of  the  human  thine  own  in  the 

song  which  thou  singest ; 
Into  the  stroke  of  thy  heart   we  have  put  each 

pang  of  the  mortal. 
Which  will   throb  and  respond  in  a  strain  to  the 

cry  of  the  victim ; 
Answer  thou  must  in   agony  every  twinge  of  his 

torture. 
Pass  through  his  sorrow  of  soul,  and  leap  with 

the  sting  of  his  body  ; 


THE   CALL   OF   THE  MUSE.  43 

And  when  he  goes  down  to  death,  thou  living 

must  go  along  with  him, 
Go  to  the  uttermost  region  beyond  the  line  of 

the  sunset, 
Living   descend  to   the  dead  and  speak   in    the 

Houses  of  Hades. 
Now  thou  must  wander;   thy  path  runs  over 

each  mountain  of  Hellas, 
Over  the  river  and  plain  to  the  site  of  each  ham- 
let and  city, 
That  thou  see  all  its  people  and  hear  them  tell 

their  own  story ; 
Not  till  then  art  thou  fitted  to  sing  the  great  song 

of  Achsea. 
First  to  Troy  thou  must  pass   and  look  at  the 

plain  and  the  ruins, 
Thou  wilt  hear  on  the  air  the  fierce  clangor  of 

arms  in  the  onset, 
Hear  the  groans  of  the  wounded,  the  shouts  of 

the  victor  and  vanquished, 
Hear  the  voice  of  the  graves  by  the  shore  of  the 

blue  Hellespontus. 
Still  the  ghosts  of  the  dead  are  fighting,  will  fight 

there  forever ! 
Catch  the  fleet  flight  of  their  words  in  thy  strain, 

in  its  adamant  fix  them, 
Make  adamantine  the  speech  of  the  spectres  by 

rolling  Scamander, 
Also  the  Gods  thou  must  see   descending  from 

lofty  Olympus, 


44  HOMER  IN  CHIOS. 

Aiding  one  side  or  the  other,  inspiring  this  hero 

or  that  one. 
Nay,  they   must  fight  on    Olympus,    the   Gods 

must  have  too  a  battle. 
But  forget  not  omnipotence  —  high  above  all  of 

them  Zeus  sits. 
'Tis  our  vision  we  grant  thee,  to  spy  out  their 

forms  in  the  ether, 
As  they  flit  hither  a  thought  of  the  mortal,  but 

yet  a  God  too!' 

Loftily  spoke  the  grand  Muse,  when  she 
changed  to  a  look  of  compassion, 

Which  made  me  weep  for  myself  as  again  she 
began  to  forecast  me : 

*  O,  the  hard  law  which  for  good  the  divine  must 
lay  on  the  human ! 

For  thy  vision  celestial  the  penalty  too  must  be 
given. 

In  return  for  the  boon  thou  must  yield  thy  ter- 
restrial vision. 

Sight  at  last  in  old  age  will  be  weighed  and  be 
paid  for  thy  insight. 

Poverty  thou  must  endure  on  the  way  for  the 
cause  of  thy  poem. 

Thine  is  to  hunger  in  body  and  thine  to  suffer  in 
spirit, 

Still  kind  hands  will  reach  thee  a  morsel  where- 
ever  thou  singest, 


THE   CALL   OF   THE  MUSE.  45 

Kindred  souls  will  speak  thee  a   word   of  sweet 

recognition, 
Then  go  further  and  sing,  though  at  first  nobody 

may  listen. 
Further  and  further  and  sing  till  the  end  has  been 

sung  of  thy  journey. 
Hard  is  thy  lot,  I  warn  thee — the  lot  of  the 

God-gifted  singer. 
But   it   cannot   be   shunned  —  to    shun    it    were 

death  without  dying. 
Go  now,  get  thee  ready  at  once,  and  set  out  on 

thy  travels.' 

Roused  by  the  voice  of  command  I  awoke  in  a 

swirl  of  the  senses, 
Homeward  I  hastened,  reflecting  how    I   might 

break  to  my  mother 
What  I  had  heard  in  a  swound  from  the  Muses 

so  fateful,  foretelling 
Sad  departure,  ordaining  divinely  the  long  sep- 
aration. 
Great  was  her  joy  at   the    marvelous  tale,  and 

great  was  her  sorrow. 
Tear  was  fighting  with  tear  in  a  war  of   delight 

and  of  anguish. 
Till  in  the  masterful  might  of  her  heart  she  rose 

up  and  bade  me  : 
<  Go  my  son,  start  to-day,  thou  must  follow  the 

call  of  the  Muses, 


46  HOMER  ly   CHIOS.  ^ 

Suffer  whatever  of  weal  and  of  woe  the  Goddesses  j 

give  thee ;  ^ 

Thou  wast  the  hope  of  my  life,  but  gladly  I  shall  j 

thee  surrender,  i 

Follow  the  call  of  the  Muses,  I  can  still  spin  for 

a  living/'*  ,  ] 


III. 


€nttxi^t. 

The  Daughter  of  Homer. 


(47) 


ARGUMENT. 

While  Homer  is  telling  to  the  youths  the  story  of  his 
early  life^  his  daughter  Praxilla,  who  has  hitherto  been 
kept  in  the  background^  appears  and  begs  that  she  be 
allowed  to  share  in  the  school  and  in  the  gifts  of  her 
father.  She  refuses  all  the  alluremmts  of  love  till  this 
right  be  accorded  her.  Homer  grants  her  lietUion,  and 
finds  in  her  words  a  strong  note  plainly  indicating 
the  future.  Then  they  all  move  to  the  shrine  of 
Apollo^  and  the  po^t  prays  the  Ood  fir  light  within^ 
and  also  j)rays  for  the  God^  who  is  still  to  unfold. 


(48) 


strong  and  firm  yet  tender  in  tone  had  spoken 

Homerus, 
Ever  the  son  of  his  mother  and  born  each  day  of 

her  spirit, 
Merely  the  thought  of  her  brought  back  the  sight 

to  his  eyes,  though  he  saw  not, 
And  to  his  vision,  though  shut  to  the  world,  her 

shape  had  arisen, 
Speaking  the  long  and  the  la^t  farewell  as  he  left 

her  to  travel, 
Speaking  the  words  which  Memory,   shyest  of 

Muse^,  had  whispered. 

Of  a  sudden  he  stopped,  borne  off  by  the  tide 
of  his  feelings. 
Out  of  the  region  of  speech,  which  died  like  a 
beautiful  music 

(49) 


50  HOMEB  IN  CHIOS. 

Far   on  the  hills,   with  echoes  repeating   them-  \ 

selves  on  his  heart-strings,  i 

As  he  hearkened  that  voice  which  can  only  be  j 

heard  in  its  silence.  | 

Always  the  poet  responds  to  the  lightest  touch  of  \ 

his  poem,  -  | 

In  it  the  music  he  hears,  and  also  the  music  be-  \ 

yond  it,  \ 

For  two  strains   his  measures  must  have,    both  i 

singing  together,  \ 

One  of  mortals  and  earth,  the  other  of  Gods  and  ] 

Olympus,  I 

One  of  gloom  and  of  fate,  the  other  of  light  and  \ 

of  freedom.  \ 

Priest  thouojh  he  be  at  the  altar  of  sons:,  he  is  also  ^ 

the  victim,  i 

And   he  yields  up  his  heart  to  the  battle  of  joy  \ 

and  of  sorrow.  \ 

Homer,    sovereign   singer,    was   weaving   the  \ 

strands  of  his  story,  \ 

Weaving  together  the  threads  of  his  life  as  he  sat  ^ 

in  his  garden,  j 

Where,  on  the  path  of  the  sea  to  the  East,  the  is-  i 

land  of  Chios  \ 

Up  from  the  waters   throbs   to  the  rise  and  the 

fall  of  the  billows,  I 

Being   itself  but  a   petrified  fragment    of  sea- 
born music. 


THE  DAUGHTER   OF  HOMER.  61 

Which  was  sung  into  stone  with  its  notes  at  their 
sweetest  vibration. 

Over  the  slant  and  the  summit  the  fruitage  is  hav- 
ing a  frolic, 

Oranges  coated  with  gold  and  olives  sparkling  in 
silver. 

Playing  in  floods  of  the  sun  that  pour  from  the 
sky  to  the  island, 

Whose  new  ardent  blood  is  flowing  to  juice  of  the 
wine-press. 

Heart-beats  of  stormiest  stone  you  can  feel  every- 
where to  the  hill-tops. 

Heaving  the  vehement  earth  till  it  rises  from 
slope  into  summit. 

While  the  fiery  soil  is  transmuted  to  grapes  in 
the  vineyard. 

Which  reveal  the  red  rage  of  the  God  in  the 
sparks  of  their  droplets. 

Pulses  of  passionate  air  you  can  breathe  every- 
where in  the  island. 

Lifting  the  rapturous  soul  into  love  of  the  youth 
and  the  maiden, 

Which  breaks  forth  into  strains  in  answer  to 
valley  and  mountain. 

Every  look  is  a  chorus  of  sea  and  of  earth  and 
of  heaven. 

All  of  the  isle  is  a  song  as  it  sways  in  the  sweep 
of  its  ridges. 

And  keeps  time  to  the  up  and  the  down  of  the 
beat  of  a  master, 


52  HOMER  IN   CHIOS, 

Tuning  the  sea  and  the  land  to  vast  undulations 

of  music, 
Notes  of  the  strain  that  rose  from  the  voice  of 

the  singer  primeval 
When  he  created  the  land  and  the  sea  and  the 

firmament  starry. 

In  the  heart  of  this  musical  isle,  bis  birth-place, 

sat  Homer, 
And  around  him  stood  youths  from  the  east  and 

the  west  of  all  Hellas, 
In  a  trance  of   the  Muses  carried   along  by  his 

numbers, 
Yielding  their   souls  unto   his  to    be  shaped    to 

that  harmony  splendid. 
Nor  from  that  group  of  fair  youths  could  Eros 

be  rightfully  absent, 
Eros,  the  God  of  Love,  had  his   shrine,   as  his 

wont  is,  in  secret 
There  in  the  garden  of  Homer  who,  though  shut 

in  his  eye-sight, 
Could  behold   each  deity  present,  however  dis- 
guised. 

Suddenly  all  of  the  eyes  of  the  youths  were 

turned  from  the  singer, 
And  to  the  tune  of  new  measures  were  shooting 

poetic  scintillas, 
Rolling  sidelong  in  fiery  joy,  yet  trying  to  hide 

it, 


THE  DAUGHTEB   OF  HOMER.  53 

Flinging  millions  of  sparkles  over  the  form  of  a 

maiden, 
Very  beautiful  maiden,  who  entered  the  gate  of 

the  garden. 
Out    of   her   hiding   she  moved,  emerging  from 

leaves  of  her  arbor. 
Like  a  Goddess  she  came,  who  has  sped  from  the 

heights  of  Olympus 
Down  to  the  longing  earth,  to  appear  the  divine 

unto  mortals. 
Forward  she  stepped  to  the  group  without  stop- 
ping, and  came  to  its  center  ; 
All  of  the  youths  were  lighting  her  path  with 

their  looks  as  she  passed  them. 
Making  the   twinkle   of   starlight   there  in    the 

blaze  of  the  sunlight. 
With  a  reverent  glance  she  touched  the  lean  hand 

of  the  poet, 
Yet  the   look   of   resolve  gave  strength  to   her 

face  in  its  sweetness, 
Softly  obedience  shone  just  while  her  own  way 

she  was  going. 
Standing  behind  him  she  pressed  the  bloom  of 

her  cheek  to  his  forehead, 
Roses  of  life  seemed  to  suddenly  shoot  from  the 

furrows  of  wisdom. 
And  to  her  father  thus  spake  Praxilla  the  daugh- 
ter of  Homer, 
While  her  strong  sweet  lips  gave  a  kiss  which 

sounded  heroic : 


54  HOMER  IN  CHIOS. 

"•  Father,  suffer  me  also  to  come  to  thy  knees 

and  to  listen ; 
I  would  learn  who  thou  art  before  thou  pass  from 

this  sunshine, 
Soon  thou  must  go,  methinks,  with  the  Days,  the 

daughters  of  Phoebus, 
Go  with  the  beautiful  Days  far  over  the  sea  to 

the  sundown. 
I  am  the  daughter  of  Homer,  hardly  I  know  yet 

my  father; 
Do  not  deny  me  the  hope  of  my  soul  which    of 

thine  is  begotten. 
Great  is   my  longing  to   hear  of  what  thou   art 

saying  and  singing ; 
Why  should  men  not  share  with  the  women  their 

lore  and  their  wisdom  ? 
None  the  less  will  you  have,  and  we  shall  gain 

much  by  your  bounty  ; 
We  shall  be  worthy  of  you,  and  you  will  receive 

the  full  blessing. 
Long  I   have  patiently  kept  in    my  bower,  my 

beautiful  bower, 
(/overed  with  blossom  and  branch  and  filled  with 

the  fragrance  of  Nature, 
Which  thou  nobly  gavest  me  once  —  it  seems  long 

ago  now  — 
Thoughtful  the   gift  was  and  kind,  but  to-day  I 

can  stay  there  no  longer. 
As  I  listened  within  it,  hidden  in  leaves  and  in 

branches, 


THE  DAUGHTEB   OF  HOMES.  55 

Wreathed    around  and  around  in  its  flowers  and 

clasped  in  its  tendrils, 
I  resolved  to  go  forth  and  lo  claim  my  heritage 

also, 
Heritage  equal  of  legend  and  song  which  are  all 

thy  possessions. 
Hear    me,  O  Father!     thy  child,  I  am  come  to 

know  of  thy  knowledge, 
I  am  come  to  thy  school  to  learn  if  I  be  the  true 

heiress, 
And  to  say  the  one  word  which   long  has  been 

growing  within  me. 
Not  yet  mature,  but  this  day  it  is  ripe  and  must 

drop  from  my  lips  now: 
Child  of  thy  body  I  am,  I  seek  to  be  child  of  thy 

spirit, 
I,    not    knowing  my    father,  am    not  the    true 

daughter  of  Homer." 

Mild  was  the   mien,  yet  strong  was  the  word 

which  the  maiden  had  uttered. 
Gentle  the  note   of  her  voice,  suppressing  softly 

a  quiver. 
Yet  betraying  a  wavering  line  in  response  to  her 

heart-beats. 
Which  sank  down  with  her  modesty,  yet  swelled 

up  with  her  purpose. 
Heedful  of  men  in  her  presence,  but  of  their 

scoffing  defiant, 


56  HOMEB  IN  CHIOS, 

To  her  father  dutiful,  yet  her  own  way  she  must 
go  too. 

All  of  the  j^ouths  admired  and  looked,  she  re- 
turned not  their  glances, 
Was  there  not  one  whom  she  in  her  heart  already 

had  chosen  — 
One  of  those  beautiful  youths,    the    flower   of 

Hellas  and  Asia? 
See  how  handsome  they  stand  in  a  group,  as  if 

they  were  God-born, 
Gathered  now  on  Olympus,  rejoicing  their  par- 

.ents  immortal ! 
Still  not  a  look  from  the  maiden  that  way  !  not 

a  glance  of  sly  favor ! 
How  can  she  help  it?  But  not  a  beam  hath  she 

dropped  there  among  them. 
Say,   has   Nature    lost   her   authority    over   the 

maiden? 
Once  revenges  were  wreaked  on  the  rebel,  double 

revenges, 
Love  which  rejects  will  feel  too  the  pang  of  being 

rejected, 
Twofold  the  wound  which  Eros  inflicts  if  you  tear 

out  his  arrow. 
Mark  how  the  generous  summers  of  Chios  have 

given  their  bounty. 
Given  their  hidden  command  in  the  warmth  of  a 

Southern  climate, 
But  the  command  is  not  heard,  is  defied  by  the 

daughter  of  Homer. 


THE  DAUGHTER   OF  HOMER.  57 

Subtle  and  sinuous  are  the  retreats  in  the  heart 

of  a  maiden 
Where  she  hides  herself,   unconsciously  testing 

the  gold  there ; 
Labyrinth  hopeless  it  is   to  dozens  of  fairest  of 

suitors, 
Yet  its  clew  is  simple  —  merely  the    love  of  the 

right  one, 
When  he  happens  along,  as   he  certainly  will,  on 

her  pathway ; 
Yes,  he  will  come,  though  we  cannot  tell  when  — 

to-day  or  to-morrow ; 
Thinking  or  thoughtless,  guilty   or  guileless,  lo  ! 

he  is  chosen. 
And  the  rest,  much  better   perchance,  march  off 

under  judgment ; 
Just   he,  nobody   else,    and   the  reason  without 

any  reason. 
Sent  from  above  he  must  be,  it  is  said,  yet   sent 

by  himself  too. 
Helped  divinely  she  is,  in  going  the  way  that  she 

pleases, 
Providence  brings  them  together,  and  both  have 

done  what  they  wanted. 
See  the  two  Gods,  within  and  without !  they  have 

met  and  are  kissing, 
Eros  and  Psyche  have  met   and  are   kissing,  the 

spirits  immortal. 
Long  before  the  two  mortals  have  tasted  the  lips 

of  each  other. 


58                           HOMEB  IN  CHIOS.  \ 

\ 

But   not   so   it    runs  now   in   the   tale  of  the  ] 

daughter  of  Homer,  \ 

Now  the   law  seems  changed  —  and   yet  we   can  1 

hardly  believe  it; 

Strange  desire  she   has  to  share  in   the   lore  and  i 

the  legend, 

Firmly  refusing  to  listen  to-day  to   the  whisper  \ 

of  Eros,  j 

Who  is  wont  to  be  hinting  to  maidens  his  secret  i 

suggestion,  \ 

And  to  speak  with  his  face  hid  in  clouds  till  he  \ 

dare  be  discovered.  ] 

Now  she  will  take  her  part  of   the  gifts  from  her  \ 

father  descended,  I 

Dimly   dreaming   perchance  that  she   hereafter  \ 

may  need  them ;  \ 

She  will  learn  the  old  songs  which   treasure  the  \ 

wisdom  of  peoples,  J 
Learn  the   story  of  heroes  tried  in    the  failure 

and  triumph,  ] 

Learn  the  story  of  women,  unf alien,  fallen,  for-  j 

given,  I 

Faithful  Penelope,   dire   Clytemnestra,  beautiful  \ 

Helen;  j 

She  too  will  sing,  remaining  forever  the  daughter  \ 

of  Homer.  j 


Gently  the  poet  groped  for  her  hand,  reaching 
out  with  his  fingers, 


THE  DkUGHTEB   OF  HOMEB.  59 

Found  it  and  laid  it  in   his  with  a  satisfied  look, 

then  addressed  her : 
**  Daughter   methinks  thy    voice   has   suddenly 

changed  from  thy  childhood, 
Yesterday  thou  wert  a  girl,  to-day  thou  art  wholly 

the  woman, 
I  can  hear  in   thy  tones  once  more  the  voice  of 

my  mother, 
Thine  is  the  voice  of  Cretheis,  when  she  was  tell- 
ing a  story, 
Sweet  are  the  turns  of  thy  tongue  in  talking  our 

living  Hellenic, 
And  yet  seeming  to  speak  just  to  me  from  a  world 

resui:rected, 
Building  anew  out  of  speech    the    rainbows    of 

youthful  remembrance. 
But   a  difference,  too,  I  can  hear  —  thy  words 

are  the  stronger. 
Yes,   far  stronger  are  thine  than,  the  words  of 

Cretheis  my  mother. 
Who  could  fable  the  past  and  loved   antiquity's 

custom  ; 
Stronger  I  deem  them  than  Helen's,  which   held 

in  their  spell  all  Achsea. 
They  do  not  dwell  in  old  days,  nor  do  they    de- 
lay in  the  present, 
They  belong  not  here  in  our  Chios,   belong  not 

in  Hellas, 
But  reach  out  to  a  time  and  a  land  somewhere  in 

the  distance, 


60  HOMER  IN  CHIOS. 

Dreamily  rising  this  moment,  I  see,  out  the   fog 

of  the  future, 
Faintly  lifted  to  life  in  the  light  of  the  beams  of 

Apollo, 
Who  has  whirled  in  his  chariot  over  the  arch    of 

our  heavens. 
And,  now  facing  the  West,  is  scanning  the    far- 
thermost Ocean. 
List !  I  bid  thee  to  come  when   done  is  the  duty 

of  household, 
Come  when  thou  wilt  and  stay  when  thou  canst, 

both  now  and  hereafter. 
Freely  unfold  what  is   in  thee  to  all   that  ever 

thou  canst  be. 
Travel  thou   must  thine  own  way  of  life  as  thy 

father  before  thee. 
Be  thou  child   of   my  spirit,  be  thou  heiress  of 

Homer, 
Follow  the  path  of  the  Sun  round  the  world,  and 

that  be  thy  journey.*' 

Scarce  had  he  uttered  the  word,  when  stately 

he  rose  Irom  the  settle. 
Full  of  the  thought  he  had  spoken   he   shone  in 

each  line  of  his  visage  ; 
Then  he  moved  to  the  place  where  stood   in  his 

garden  nn  altar, 
For,  though  blind,  he  knew  well  the  way  to  the 

shrine  of  the  Light-God. 


TEE  DAUGHTER   OF  HOMES.  61 

After   him  moved  the   daughter   and  youths  in 

holy  procession, 
Solemn,    slow-stepping,   while   stainlessly  white 

fell  the  folds  of  their  garments; 
When  they  had  gathered  about  him  and  stood  in 

a  worshipful  silence, 
Hopeful  he  turned  to  the  sky,  rolled  upward  his 

sightless  eyeballs, 
Seeking  the  face  of  the  God   that  shone  as  the 

sun  in  the  heavens. 
And  he  prayed  his  soul's  prayer,  with  might  of 

an  instant  fulfillment: 
<*  O   Apollo,    bearer   of   all  that  is  good    to    us 

mortals. 
Bearer  of  light  to  the  Earth  and  of  sight  to  the 

soul  in  thy  presence, 
God  of  the  luminous  look  that  darts  to  the  past 

and  the  future. 
And  doth  shine  on  the  present  forever,  creating 

it  daily ! 
Shed  still  over  the  Earth  thy  light,  though  to  me 

thou  deny  it ; 
Build  thy  arch  of  pure  beams  each  day  round  the 

heavens  above  us. 
Spend  thy  blessing  on  others,   though  I  be  not 

able  to  take  it ; 
Hold  overhead  as  our  lamp  and   our   shield  thy 

canopy  golden. 
And,  as  thou  risest  upon  the  beautiful  world  out- 
side me. 


62  HOMEB  IN  CHIOS. 

Kise  and  illumine  the  world,  the  dim   world  that 

is  lying  within  me ! 
Deity  though  thou  be,  for  thee  also  I  lift   up  my 

prayer ; 
Thou  unfold  in  thyself  while  I   too  in   thee  am 

unfolding. 
More    and  more   may  thy  light  be  transformed 

from  the  outer  to  inner, 
Till  thou  be  risen  from  godship  of  nature  to  god- 
ship  of  spirit. 
Then  through  thee  may  the  song  that  I  sing  be 

reborn  in  the  ages, 
Ever  reborn  unto  men  in  the  sheen  of  thy  spirit, 

O  Light-God!'* 

All  the  youths  prayed  the  prayer  of  Homer, 

the  daughter  prayed  with  them. 
In  low  tones  of  devotion  that  speak  to  the  deity 

present, 
Standing  full  in  the  sheen  of  the  sun  by  the  shrine 

of  Apollo, 
Who  from  his  way  in  the  West,  threw  back  his 

glances  propitious. 
Warming  the  words  of  the  poet,  and  making  the 

moments  all  golden. 


IV. 


i  €xnia. 


The  Stranger  of  Northland. 


(63) 


ARGUMENT. 

At  this  point  a  stranger  appears  in  the  school  of 
Horner^  not  a  Greek  or  Asiatic,  but  a  Barbarian,  so 
called,  from  the  far  northwest.  He  has  come  to  learn 
something  about  Homer,  having  had  some  previous  in- 
formation from  a  Greek  captive  whom  he  had  taken  in 
war.  The  stranger  wishes  to  carry  Homer's  poetry  — 
the  whole  of  it,  and  not  some  fragments  —  to  his  people, 
and  hand  it  down  to  the  future.  Meantime  Praxilla, 
the  daughter  of  Homer,  listens  to  the  story  of  the  stranger 
with  an  interest  never  felt  before,  and  she  neglects  for  a 
moment  her  household  duties  in  her  eagerness  to  see  and 
hear  him.  Homer  and  the  scholars,  after  trying  in  vain 
to  pronounce  the  rough  gutturals  of  his  name,  salute  him 
by  the  Greek  title  of  Hespeiion. 


(€♦)> 


Scarce  to  the  God  of  the  Light  had  they  ended 

their  powerful  prayer, 
And  looked  up  from  their  service  divine  with  a 

sense  of  their  freedom, 
Lo,  a  stranger  arrives,  a  youth  still  dusted  with 

travel, 
Yet  with  a  glow  of  new  gladness  that  told  of  a 

journey  completed. 
**  Look,  who  is  that?"  the  scholars  were  whis- 
pering each  to  the  other, 
*'  Homerid  novel  he  is,  just  come  from  Barbary 

distant ; 
Wonder  if  he  have  a  tongue  in  his  mouth  that 

can  trill  the  Greek  accent, 
See  but   his   mantle   of  motley    and    garments 

swaddled  around  him, 

5  (65) 


66  HOMER  IN   CHIOS. 

Look  at   his  face   and   his   form,  he  never   was 

born  in  our  Hellas. 
Beautiful  still   he   might   be,    if   he    only   were 

dressed  in  our  drapery.'' 

Then  they  ceased,  for  the  stranger  already  was 

standing  among  them, 
Manly  in  look  and  lofty  in  stature  and  earnest  in 

feature. 
Fair  was  his  hair  and  ruddy  his  cheek  and  broad 

were  his  shoulders. 
Swift  was  the  flash  of  his  eye,  it  was  wild  and 

still  it  was  gentle. 
Often  it  sank  to  a  dream  reflecting  the  blue  of 

the  heavens. 
Some   new   sort  of   a  man  he    appeared  to  the 

Greek  of  the  islands. 
Taller   he  stood  by  the  half  of  his  head  than  any 

one  present ; 
At   the   entrance  he  stopped    and  gazed  at    the 

group  for  a  moment, 
Smit  by  the  sight  of  what  he  had  suddenly  seen 

in  an  eye-shot ; 
Then   he  turned  and  spoke  to  the  poet,  slowly 

pronouncing 
Each  Greek  word  in  a  tone  that  tingled  the  ear 

with  new  music, 
Though  it  tickled  at  first  the  light-brained  youths 

to  a  titter, 
Whispering,  jibing,  making  remarks  in  the  ban- 
ter of  boyhood. 


THE   STB  AN  GEE   OF  NOBTHLAND.  67 

Thus  spake  the  stranger,  deliberate,  yet  inton- 

ins:  his  firmness, 
For  a  message  he  had  in  his  heart,  and  was  going 

to  tell  it : 
"  Far  in  the   region   of  snow  I  dwell,  whence 

Boreas  chilling 
Falls  on  the  sun-loved  South  with  his  sword  that 

is  forced  in  the  Northland, 
Forged  out  of  ice  and  tempered  in  blasts  from 

the  nostrils  of  frost-gods. 
Fierce  is  that  warrior  of  winds  and  like  the  bar- 
barian ever, 
Who  is  charmed  from   his  frozen   world  to  the 

warmth  and  the  harvest, 
And  descends  to  your  seas  with  his    hordes  in  a 

whirl  and  a  tempest, 
Mad  with   your  love  he  smites   in  his  rage  and 

seizes  your  beauty. 
But,  Oh  Homer,  you  1  address,  the  goal  of  my 

travels  — 
For  I  deem  you  that  man  whom  I  name   by   the 

awe  of  your  forehead  — 
Do  you  know   your  measures  have   pierced  our 

ice  builded  fortress. 
Warming  our  clime  by  their  breath  and   melting 

our  hearts  to  their  music? 
Rude  is  the  turn  of  your  words  in  our  speech,  and 

dim  is  the  meaning. 
Still  it  touches  our  hearts,  and  to  sympathy  softens 

our  fierceness ; 


68  JIOMEB  IN  CHIOS. 

You  have  made  us  all  feel  ourselves  a  little  more 

human, 
When  your  Hero  in  wrath  relented   in  pity  for 

Priam, 
Kunsomed  his  bitterest  foe  and  comforted  sweetly 

the  father. 
Northland  is   starting   to   thaw  in  the  breath  of 

the  Southern  singer, 
And  I  am  come  to  reward  you   alive   by  telling 

the  message." 

Joyful  the  poet  was  tuned  by  the  tidings  hyper- 
borean, 
Voice  from  a  far  off  world  and  promise  of  much 

that  was  coming. 
Casting  across  the  G-reek  landscape  a  shadow  of 

lands  in  the  sunset. 
New   were  the   tones  of  the  tongue,  not  Doric, 

Aeolic,  Ionic, 
Not  the   turn   of  the   speech  that  is  spoken  on 

island  or  mainland, 
Nothing  like  it  had  ever  been  heard  in  the  city  of 

Chios, 
Nothing  like  it  had  ever  been  sung  in  the  strains 

of  a  rhapsode. 
Music   it  had  of  its  own,  and  yet  all  the  words 

were  Hellenic, 
Nay,  all  the  words  were  Homer's,  and  seemed  to 

be  drawn  from  his  poems, 


THE  STRANGER    OF  NORTHLAND.  69 

Wondrously  tinged  with  new  tints  and  quaintly 

turned  to  new  meanings. 
Greatl}^  surprised  at  the  sound  of  the  voice  spake 

Homer,  uprising : 
**  Speak,  oh  guest,  tell  how  you  have   learned 

our  language  of  Hellas  ; 
Hard   it   is   for  the  native,  harder  it  must  be  for 

strangers, 
Cunning  it  is  like  ourselves,  eluding  the  grasp  of 

the  learner, 
In  its  hundreds  of  shifts  transforming  itself  like 

old  Proteus. 
Then  I  notice  your  rhythm  to  be  of  my  measures 

begotten. 
And  some  turns  of  your  speech  are  certainly  born 

of  my  spirit. 
Aye   and   the   sweep   of  the   thought  when  you 

spoke  of  the  Hero  Achilles. 
Well  you   have   heard   my  song,  far  better  than 

many  a  Grecian, 
Though   a  barbarian,  you,  I  can   feel,  have    the 

touch  of  my  kinship. 
Mighty  and   marvelous  is  all  this,  I  would  never 

have  thought  it. 
Come  now,  tell  me  the  story,  Oh  guest,  for  great 

is  my  wonder." 


That  I  shall   tell   you  at  once,"  he  replied, 
not  long  is  the  story. 


70  HOMEB  IN   CHIOS. 

What   I   have   spoken  to  vou,  I  learned  from  a 

Greek,  my  own  captive, 
Whom  I  had  taken  in  war,  when  he  came  to  my 

country's  border, 
Trading,  plundering,  wandering  over  the   world 

for  adventure ; 
That   was   another   Ulysses,  much-enduring  and 

crafty, 
Loving  the  song  and  the  fable,  singing  them  too 

on  occasion. 
Loving  the  deed  and  daringly  doing  on  land  and 

on  water. 
Your  Greek  earth  was  too  small  for  the  stress  of 

his  thought  and  his  action. 
Over  the  border  he  broke  and  hunted  his  prey 

like  a  lion. 
Knowledge  beyond  it  he  sought,  and  fell  into  fate 

ill  his  searching. 
How  I  felt  in  my  bosom  the  swell  and  the  stroke 

of  his  spirit! 
When  I  found  what  he  was,  I  made  him  my  friend 

and  companion. 
Though   a  slave  still  in  name,  he  was  given  my 

love  and  my  bounty  ; 
Well  he  repaid  the  act;  from  a  prisoner's  death 

I  had  saved  him, 
And  he  saved  me  in  turn  from  the  ignorant  death 

of  the  savage. 
There  in  the  forest  your  speech  I  began,  I  prac- 
ticed it  daily 


THE   STBANQEB   OF  NOBTHLAND.  71 

Till  by  his  aid  I  was  able  to  speak  it  the  way  you 
now  hear  me. 

Him  I  set  free  as  soon  as  he  taught  me  the  lan- 
guage of  Homer, 

It  is  the  word  of  your  poem  that  broke  the  chain 
of  his  bondage, 

Mine  too  it  broke  at  a  blow  when  I  said  in  your 
Greek  :  *  Be  free  now,' 

And  I  am  sure,  it  would  break  every  chain  of  the 
people  who  spoke  it." 

More  astonished  than  ever  the  poet  burst  out 
into  questions: 

*«  Why  hast  thou  come  to  this  spot,  and  how 
didst  thou  get  to  our  island? 

Utter  again  to  me  here  thy  broken  Hellenic  — 
I  love  it, 

Love  it  twisted  and  splintered  and  broken  to  ra- 
diant fragments 

Dropping  out  of  thy  mouth,  yet  speaking  the 
best  that  is  spoken. 

Say,  who  art  thou,  man,  and  what  art  thou  doing 
in  Hellas?" 

Jubilant  Homer  asked,  but  could  not  wait  for 

the  answer. 
Asked  once  more,  and  that  was  not  yet  the  end 

of  his  asking. 
Till  the  stranger,  breaking  the  lull  of  a  moment, 

responded : 


72  HOMEB  IN  CHIOS. 

*'  He  the  Greek  whom  I  spoke  of,  once  called 

you  a  native  of  Chios ; 
With  that  name  in  my  heart,  inquiring  each  step 

I  am  come  now 
Over  the  land  from  afar  and  over  the  sea  in  a 


But  is  it   so?  I  can   hardly  believe  it  myself  — 

Art  thou  Homer? 
Tell  me,  old  man,  thy  name,    O   speak    it  but 

once  —  Is  it  Homer  ? ' ' 
**  So  I  was  called  by  my  mother,  still  so  I  am 

called  by  the  Hellenes, 
Though  there  be  some  who  deem  me  not  Homer 

but  some  other  person, 
Merely  a  different  man  of  that  name,"  responded 

Homerus, 
And  a  sunrise  of  smiles  broke  over  the  seams  of 

his  features. 
As  arose  in  his  thought  the  pedagogue  dwelling 

in  Chios, 
Terrible  pedagogue,  trouncer  of  boys,  the  crusty 

Typt6des. 

Then  spake  the  stranger,  uplifting  himself  to 

the  height  of  his  stature, 
Far  overlooking  the  heads  of  the  rest  of  the  little 

assembly : 
**  Let  mo  now  tell  you  the  scope  of  my  travel, 

the  hope  of  my  journey  I 


THE  STBANQEB   OF  NOBTHLAND.  73 

Praised  be  the  Gods!  I  have  reached  in  safety 

the  place  of  your  dwelling, 
Mighty,  resistless  the  need  I  have  felt  to  see  you 

and  hear  you. 
Aye,  to  learn  your  full  song  and  store  it  away  in 

my  bosom, 
Whence  the  Muses,    daughters  of  Memory,  al- 
ways can  fetch  it. 
I  would  carry  it  off  to  my  home  far  up  in  the 

Northland, 
Fleeting  over   the  wintery   border   of   beautiful 

Hellas 
Where  it  reaches  beyona  the  abode  of  the  Gods 

on  Olympus, 
To  the  regions  where  drinking  their  whey  dwell 

the  mare-milking  Thracians, 
Over  the  hills  and  the  valleys  away  to  the  banks 

of  a  river, 
To   the  stream  that  is  bearing  the  flood  of  the 

wide-whirling  Istros, 
Still  beyond  and  beyond,  still  over  the  plain  and 

the  mountain. 
Over  vast  lands  to  the  seas,  and  over  the  seas  to 

the  lands  still, 
Through    the    icicled    forest,    and   through   the 

tracts  of  the  frost-fields. 
Still  beyond  and  beyond,  still  over  the  earth  and 

its  circles, 
I  would  carry  your  song  in  my  soul  to  the  homes 
of  my  people 


74  HOMEB  IN  CHIOS, 

Where  the  huge  arms  of  the  breakers  are  smit- 
ing the  shore  of  the  Ocean, 

Ever  beyond  and  beyond  in  the  stretch  of  their 
strokes  they  are  striking, 

Beating,  forever  repeating  the  strokes  of  the  in- 
finite Ocean/' 

Both  of  his  arms  he  outstretched  and  gazed  on 

the  sea  for  a  moment ; 
Catching  his  breath,  the  stranger  returned  from 

his  look  to  his  hearers: 
**  Barbarous  lands  and  peoples  you  call  them,  and 

truly  so  call  them. 
But  in  their  hearts  they  are  ready,  I  know,  to  be 

tuned  to  your  music. 
And  to  be  dipped,  once  more  new-born,  in  your 

harmony  holy. 
Which  they  will  keep  forever  enshrined  in  their 

lore  and  their  legend. 
Homer,  O  Homer,  poet  of  ail  the   nations  and 

ages. 
Give    unto   Barbary   now    what   the   Gods  have 

given  to  HeUas." 

Round  whirled  the  stranger,  the  beat  of  his 
thought  still  smiting  within  him. 

Driven  out  of  himself,  he  walked  at  a  whisk  a 
small  circle 

And  came  back  to  his  stand,  as  if  putting  a  bodily 
period 


THE   STBANGEB   OF  NOBTHLAND.  75 

There  to  the  sweep  of  his  utterance  swift,  but 

his  spirit's  full  gallop 
He  could  not  rein  in  at  once,  and  so  his  words  he 

continued  : 
«'  All  of  your  song  I  would  know,  the  whole 

of  it  fitted  together, 
That  Greek  captive  of  mine  could  only  sing  me 

the  fragments. 
Broken  off    here  and  there   from  the  whole  — 

most  beautiful  fragments, 
Which  Mnemosyne  fleetingly  brought  him  when 

he  invoked  her. 
But  the  whole  of  your  song  I   must  have,  the 

whole  of  it  shredless, 
For  the  whole  is  often  far  more  than  all  of    its 

pieces. 
Aye,  the  whole  is  all  of  its  pieces,  and   is  the 

whole  too." 

Here  laughed  Homer  aloud,  yet  spake  no  word 

with  his  pleasure ; 
What  had  started  the  poet  who  rarely  gave  way 

to  his  laughter? 
It  was  the  thought,  the  comical  thought  of  the 

pedagogue  Chian, 
Who  was  always   beating  and  breaking  the  song 

into  pieces, 
Till  he  became  what  he  made,  became  too  himself 

but  a  fragment  — 


76  HOMES  IN  CHIOS. 

Terrible  fragment  of  man,  the  trouncer  of  boys 

and  of  verses, 
Terrible     pedagogue    Chian,    the    slasher     and 

thrasher,  Typtodes. 

All  of  the  youths  drew  closer  around  him,  the 

wonderful  stranger. 
Scholar  hyperborean,  the  first  that  had  come  from 

the  Northland ; 
They  received  him  as  one  of  themselves  in  the 

school  of  the  master, 
Gone  is  the  scoff  and  the  jibe,  and  the  whisper  is 

speaking  respectful. 

Also  Praxilla  was  there,  the  beautiful  daughter 

of  Homer, 
Hearing  the  marvelous  tale  and  pondering  deeply 

its  meaning. 
Sweetly  the  maiden  looked  up  and  smiled  at  the 

mirth  of  her  father. 
Though  she  knew  not  the  cause,  she  knew  that 

the  stranger  had  pleased  him. 
Her  too  the   stranger  had  pleased,  she  thought, 

in  pleasing  the  father. 
Her  too  the  stranger  had  pleased  —  she  knew  not 

what  was  the  reason. 
Not  yet  brought  to  an  end  was  the  task  of  the 

day  in  the  household. 
Still  she  lingered  and  listened,  though  hearing  the 

call  of  the  kitchen. 


THE   STBANGEE   OF  NOETHLAND.  77 

Nobly  erect  stands  the  youth,  and  towers  aloft 

m  his  stature, 
Brave  as  a  hero  he  must  be  to  travel  alone  the 

long  journey. 
Loyal  the  heart  in  his  breast,  so  true  to  his  Greek 

benefactor ; 
Lofty  his  soul  looks  out  and  full  of  divine  aspi- 
ration ! 
Man  with    a  beard,  overtopping    the  cluster  of 

beardless  bardlings, 
As  great  Zeus  overtops  all  the  Gods  in  his  mien 

and  his  power. 
Burst  is  the  bloom  of  his  manhood,  still  as  a  man 

he  is  youthful, 
Weighty  his  speech  drops  down  with  the  ring  of 

the  masterful  doer; 
And  Praxilla  the  daughter  of  Homer  still  lins^ered 

and  listened. 
Lingered   to  hear  but   a   word,  one  more  word 

she  would  catch  from  the  stranger, 
Though  again  she  heard  the  importunate  cry  of 

the  kitchen. 

Seeing  her  there  he  began  once  more,  that  son 

of  the  Northland, 
For  he  thought  she  might  wish  to  be  told  what  he 

knew  about  women: 
*<  Rude  though  we  be  and  warriors  from  birth,  we 

are  fond  of  the  household, 


78  HOMER  IN  CHIOS. 

And  we  honor  the  wife  who  rules  with  her  heart 

in  her  home  life; 
But,  yet  more,  we  honor  the  woman,  for  she  is 

the  healer. 
Ever  the  merciful  healer  through  the  love  in  her 

nature. 
Healing  the  soul  and  the  body,  and  nursing  the 

sick  and  the  helpless. 
Aye,   yet   more,  we   hold   her   the   seeress,  the 

gifted  divinely, 
Who  has  the  vision  beyond,  foretelling  the  time 

unto  mortals." 
And  Praxilla  still   lingered  and   listened,  the 

daughter  of  Homer, 
Lingered  to  hear  but  a  word,  one  more  word  she 

would  hear  from  the  stranger  ; 
Louder  and  louder  resounded  the  dolorous  cry 

of  the  kitchen. 

Then  the  poet  in  speech  forethoughtful  and  ■ 

hearty  addressed  him  : 
**  Welcome,  oh  stranger,  here  is  our  board  with 

its  wine  and  its  viands, 
Stay  and  partake,  be  refreshed  from  thy  journey 

in  body  and  spirit, 
First  pour  a  drop  to  the  God  of  the  Light,  far 

darter  Apollo, 
Pray  then,  for  men  have  need  of  the  God,  he  will 

answer  thy  prayer. 


THE   STBANGEB   OF  NOBTHLAND.  79 

Take  of  me  all  that  I  am,  or  was  or  ever  I  shall 

be, 
Bear  me  afar  as   thou  wilt,  to   thy  folk   in   the 

snows  of  the  Northland, 
Learn  all  my  song   and  carry  it   off,  the  whole, 

not  a  fragment. 
For  no  fragment  can  live  if  torn  from  its  life  in 

the  body; 
Sing  it  thyself  and  let  it  be  sung  by  the  farther- 
most peoples, 
Thine  it  is  as  it  is  mine,  if  thou  only  art  able  to 

sing  it; 
In  thy  words  I  ctm  feel  that  thou  art  the  son  of 

the  future. 
Feel  what  is  coming  to  me  and  to  mine  from  the 

world  to  the  westward. 
Welcome  O  guest,  now  drink  of  our   wine  and 

eat  of  our  viands  ; 
Stay  —  perchance  I  shall  make  thee  joint  heir  of 

all  my  possessions." 

So  spake  the  father  in  joy,  expecting  the  feast 

to  be  ready. 
But   Praxilla,    where    is    Praxilla,    the    dutiful 

maiden? 
Still  she  lingered  in  spite  of  herself,  and  listened, 

and  wondered, 
Lingered  to  catch  but  a   word,  one  more  word, 

froin  the  lips  of  the  stranger. 


80  HOMEB  IN  CHIOS. 

Though  her  father  she  heard  re  echo  the  cry  of 

kitchen, 
When  he  spoke  of  drinking  the  wine  and  eating 

the  viands. 
Beautiful  daughter   of   Homer  she  stood  there, 

but  dutiful  also ; 
She  was  restless,  and  said  to  herself  in  reproof, 

still  delaying: 
'*  Surely  I  ought  to  be  off,   I  was  needed  long 

since  in  my  kitchen ; 
What  will  the   household  become  if  left  to  itself 

in  the  future? 
Oh,   those   women,  those  wonderful  women,  up 

there  in  the  Northland  ! 
That  was  the  tale  of  a  dream,  and  still  I  appear 

to  be  dreaming. 
Thinking  myseU  far  away  in  the  glistening  home 

of  tlie  frost-gods. 
Thinking  myself  in  a  temple  of  ice  on  the  top  of 

an  iceberg. 
Woman,  now  speed  from    this  old  Greek  world 

and  march  to  the  new  one  I 
Would  he  take  me  along  if  I  perchance  would  go 

with  him? 
That  is  my  mind  —  and  yet  I  know  not  whether  I 

know  it ; 
That  is  my  mind  —  beyond  the  seas  and  over  the 

mountains  — 
But  I  must  go  —  ray  kitchen,  my  kitchen  —  and 

still  I  delay  here  — 


THE   STBANGEB   OF  NOBTHLAND.  81 

Ever  beyond  and  beyond  is  my  mind,  on  the  wings 

of  my  thinking, 
Over  the   plain  and  the  mountain,  and  over  the 

border  of  HeUas, 
Up  to  the  stream  that  is  bearing  the  flood  of  the 

wide-whirling  Istros, 
Over  the  river  afar  to  the  shore  of  the  further- 
most Ocean, 
Where  I  can  feel  the  embrace  of  the  waves  of  the 

earth-holding  Ocean, 
There   I   would  stand  by   the  waters  —  and  yet 

even  they  could  not  stop  me  ! 
But  away  to  my  kitchen,  my  kitchen  —  Oh,  why 

do  I  stay  here!  '* 

Just  at  that  moment  the  stranger  looked  over 

the  youths  round  about  him. 
But  those  youths  did  not  mark  quite  what  he  was 

warily  seeking, 
Even   away  from  the   poet  he  looked  and  found 

what  he  searched  for, 
Where  stood  the  lingering,  listening  daughter  of 

Homer,  Praxilla, 
Who   still   delayed  for  a  word,    one  more  word 

f rona  the  lips  of  the  stranger. 

Then    spake    the  father,    breaking    into    the 
thought  of  the  dausrhter  : 
"  Hold !  thy  name,  O  guest,  we  must  know,  ere 
we  go  to  the  banquet, 
6 


82  HOMEB  IN  CHIOS. 

We  must  address  thee  as  one  of  our  owd,  when 

we  sit  at  the  table." 
Slowly  the  stranger  pronounced  it,  barbarous, 

heavy,  rough-throated. 
But  those  soft-toned  dreeks  could  not  speak  it  in 

spite  of  their  cunning. 
Oft  he   repeated  it  for  them,  but    in  vain  they 

essayed  it, 
Rudely  its  sounds  were  jolting  out  their  mouths 

in  confusion, 
Broken  to  fragments  around  on  the  air  flew  the 

name  of  the  stranger. 
Then  the  master  spake  out,  and  bade  all  be  silent 

a  moment : 
*'  Much  too  old  is  my  voice  to  be  forced  to  the 

tones  of  thy  language, 
Always  it  creaks   and  breaks  if  strained  to  the 

subtle  adjustment, 
I  have  sung  too  much   to  make  any  longer  this 

discord. 
Hearken  to  me  !  in  my  tongue  I  shall  name  thee 

henceforward  Hesperion, 
Son  of  the  Evening,  come  from  the  dip  of  bright 

Helius  westward. 
Rising  and  shining   when  it  is  sunset  already  in 

Hellas. 
That   is  a  name  we  can  sing  to  right  music  in 

measure  Hellenic, 


THE  STB  ANGER   OF  NOBTHLAND.  83 

List  to  the  word,  let  us  sing  it  together:  Wel- 
come, Hesperion !  " 

Then  the  youths  sang  aloud  all  together :  Wel- 
come, Hesperion  ! 

And  Praxilla  whispered  in  silence:  Thrice 
welcome  Hesperion ! 

In  a  blush  at  her  whisper,  she  turned  and  ran  out 
to  her  kitchen. 


Clio. 

The  Travels  of  Homer. 


(85) 


ARGUMENT. 

Homer  takes  up  the  account  of  his  travels  through 
Hellas  in  preparation  for  his  ivork.  All  his  scholars  are 
present,  of  whom  a  short  list  is  given.  He  first  ivent  to 
Troy,  and  saw  the  ruined  city  with  its  plain,  where  the 
war  took  place.  Then  he  crossed  over  to  the  continent 
of  Greece,  and  heard  the  people  of  each  village  celebrate 
the  deeds  of  its  special  hero.  WJiile  singing  himself 
he  also  heard  the  bards  of  every  locality  sing  its  special 
legend  of  Troy  and  the  aforetime.  TJius  Htmer  gath- 
ered all  the  stories  of  the  Trojan  war,  and  fused  them 
together  into  his  great  national  poem.  He  chances  to 
speak  of  Helen  and  her  captivity  ;  at  once  the  old  conflict 
flames  out  among  the  pupils  in  his  school.  But  Homer 
stopi  the  dispute  for  a  short  time,  and  continues  the  nar^ 
ratioe  of  his  travels,  till  the  strife  breaks  out  anew,  this 
time  over  Hector,  between  Glaucus  the  Lycian  and 
Demodocus  the  Ithacan.  Each  side  is  still  ready  to 
fight  the  Trojan  war  over  again.  Homer  once  more 
harmonizes  the  conflict,  and  takes  occasion  to  shoiv  how 
the  poet  must  embrace  in  himself  both  sides  of  the  strug- 
gle tohich  he  portrays. 


(86) 


Morning  had  come  from  the  East; saluting  the 

island  of  Chios, 
Throwing  her  kisses  of  light  along  every  line  of 

the  landscape, 
Till   it  stood  forth  in   her   glance,  revealed  and 

transfigured  to  vision. 
Soft  was  the  light  that  she  dropped  from  her  lips 

on  the  hill  and  the  valley, 
Tenderly  touching  the  air  with  violet  tinges  and 

golden  ; 
Under  her  feet  lay  the  waters  and  over  her  head 

bent  the  heavens. 
Both  of  them  waked  from   the  night,  reflecting 

her  soul  in  their  stillness; 
Sea  and  sky,  the  two  big  blue  eyes  of  nature,  had 

opened, 

(87) 


88  HOMER  IN  CHIOS. 

And  were  lookiog  with  joy  on  Chios,  the  beauti- 
ful island. 

Where  not  far  from  the  beach  stood  the  garden 
and  dwelling  of  Homer. 

All  the  youths  had  assembled  to  hear  the  tale 
of  his  travel, 

Which  by  the  chance  of  the  moment  had  been 
before  interrupted ; 

Now  they  would  hear  of  the  way  he  had  wan- 
dered to  come  to  his  poems. 

For  they  all  would  like  to  be  Homers  and  sing 
of  the  heroes, 

Catching  the  glory  of  life  in  the  lilt  of  a  music- 
al measure. 

Glaucus  was  there,  a  youth  from  the  banks  of 
the  eddying  Xanthus, 

Mighty  his  ancestor  was,  Bellerophon,  hero  of 
Lycia  ; 

Warriors  his  race  had  been,  but  he  now  sought  to 
be  poet ; 

Singing  not  doing  the  deed  he  held  the  better  vo- 
cation. 

Other  great  names  were  present  from  lowland 
and  upland  of  Asia: 

Gyges,  Mysius,  Nastes,  son  of  a  Phrygian  mon- 
arch, 

Dardan  from  Gargarus  nigh  unto  Troy,  the  city 
in  ruins, 


THE   TRAVELS  OF  HOMER.  89 

Aphroditorus  the  curled  Milesian  boy,  Niobides 
Fresh   from    the   tears   of  Sipylus  —  these  may 

stand  as  examples; 
But  the  foremost  was  Glaucus,  the  son  and  the 

grandson  of  Glaucus, 
Far  back  tracing  his  blood  to  the  veins  of  Bel- 

lerophontes. 

Next,  O  Muse,  thou  must  glance  at  the  youths 

who  crossed  out  of  Europe. 
Young  Demodocus  came,  who  sprang  from  an 

order  of  singers. 
Living  in  Ithaca  where  they  sang  of  the  toils  of 

Ulysses. 
Homer   had  been  their  guest  when  he  touched 

their  isle  in  his  travels. 
Gathering  wonderful    Ithacan  tales   of  voyages 

westward. 
Fabulous  threads  of  song,  like  gossamers  floating 

in  sunshine. 
All  to  be  caught  by  the  poet  and  wove  to  a  beau- 
tiful garment. 
Teucer  of  Salamis  came,  descended  from  Teucer 

the  archer; 
Skill    in  handling  the   bow  he   possessed  —  the 

gift  of  Apollo, 
But  the  God  had  refused  his  other  great  gift  — 

that  of  wisdom ; 
Still   the  youth  would  be  singer,    and  broke  in 

scorn  all  his  arrows, 


90  HOMER  IN  CHIOS. 

Talent  he  had  for  the  one,  desire  he  felt  for  the 

other,         1.. 
Teucer  could  not  what  he  would,  and  whatever 

he  could  he  would  not. 
Burly   Plexippus  was  there,  the  richest  scholar 

of  Horner^ 
Glossy    and    sleek    were  grazing    his  herds   in 

Thessaly  grassy. 
Thousands   of  horses  were  his  that  drank  at  the 

streams  of  Peneios, 
Palaces  too   he  owned  and  held  whole  cities  for 

barter ; 
Soniehow  he  thought  he  could  simply  exchange 

some  cattle  for  verses. 
E'en   the  Pierian   spring  was  his   by  virtue  of 

money. 
Once  for  its  waters  he  counted  out  pieces  of  gold 

and  of  silver. 
But  though  their  fountain    he  bought,  he  never 

could  purchase  the  Muses. 
When   he  returned   to  his  country  and  held  his 

Thessalian  domains, 
All  hi$  thought  was  to  buy  up  the  home  of  the 

Gods,  high  Olympus, 
Then  the  Gods  he  deemed  he  possessed,  possessing 

their  mountain. 
And  at  his  will  he  could  call  them  down  from  their 

heights  to  his  poem. 

Other  youths  from  the  islands  had  come,  and 
also  from  Argos, 


THE   TBAVEL8  OF  HOMEB.  91 

But  the  Muse  has  not  given  their  names  excepting 

Sophrones, 
Clear    Athenian    soul,    devoted   to   worship    of 

Pallas, 
Moralist  ever   was   he,  the  manifold   maker   of 

maxims. 

Tall  Hesperion  too  was  present,  just  from  the 

Northland, 
Sole  barbarian  there,  yet  eager  to  learn  and  to 

listen. 
Towering  over  the  rest  like  Fate  over  beautiful 

Hellas; 
Strong  were  his  features,  yet  melting  to  love  in 

the  sunshine  of  Chios. 

One  more  scholar  forget  not,  though  first  pres- 
ent this  morning! 

There  she  stands  behind  by  the  door  —  the  daugh- 
ter of  Homer, 

Still  by  the  door  in  the  rear  —  she  yet  will  ad- 
vance to  the  foreground. 

Shy  are  her  glances,  striving  to  hide  her  heart  in 
her  bosom, 

But  they  are  tell-tales,  and  whisper  the  thought 
she  is  secretly  thinking. 

Voices  arose  which  bade  the  poet  go  on  with 
his  story; 
Grappling  awhile  for  his  thought  again  he  began 
his  recital : 


92  HOMEB  IN  CHIOS. 

*' First  I  went  over  to  Troy,  and  dwelt  on  its 

plain  and  its  hillock, 
In  the  city  destroyed  I  stayed  and  lived  with  its 

ruins, 
Which  still  talk  to  the  traveler  telling  their  story 

so  fateful. 
Kivers  I  saw  in  the  plain,  and  heard  the  God  of 

Scamander 
Speak   of  the   Heroes   slain  and  many  a  furious 

battle. 
As  he  pointed  to  corselet  and  helmet  and  shield 

mid  his  rushes. 
Showing  the  skulls  of  the  dead  that  grinned  from 

the  ooze  of  hi.s  stream  bed. 
Thence  I  passed  on  the  sea  in  a  ship  from  island 

to  island. 
Felt  the  favor  of  hoary  Poseidon,  and  felt  too  his 

anger. 
When  he  would  roll  up  the  waves  in  a  storm  by 

the  might  of  his  trident ; 
Him  I  once  saw  in  his  chariot  scudding  away  on 

the  billow 
Right    into    sunset,  and    leaving  a    fiery  track 

through  the  waters. 
Glad  for  my  life  I  was  when  I  came  to  the  main- 
land of  Hellas, 
Peoples    I  saw,  their   cities   and    customs,  but 

chiefly  their  legends 
Drew  me  to  listen  and  gather  each  radiant  shred 

of  their  spirit. 


TUE   TBAVELS  OF  HOMEB.  93 

Heroes  unknown  I  found  every wheie,  great  men 

of  their  village, 
Whose  high  deeds  were  at  festivals  sung  by  their 

townsmen  in  worship, 
For  each  village  its  Hero  must  have  and  revere 

him  divinely. 
Every  bard  in  the  country  I  heard  and  stored  up 

his  fables, 
Till  the  Delphian  cleft  which  utters  the  measures 

prophetic, 
Till  the  Thesprotian  land  where  speak  the  oaks  of 

Dodona, 
Till   the   Olympian   heights    where   Gods    look 

down  upon  Hellas. 
And  to  Helicon  came  I  and  heard  the  song  of  its 

Muses, 
Singing  a   rival  strain  to  the  Sisters  who  sit  on 

Parnassus ; 
There  I  listened  to  Hesiod,  crabbed  old  singer  of 

Ascra, 
And  I  gave  him  a  note  of  the  song  that  was  rising 

within  me, 
I  had  already  begun  the  new  lay  of  the  Gods  and 

the  Heroes. 
For  a  moment  he  ceased   his  complaints  of  man 

and  of  woman. 
Quit   his  dark  world  of  monsters  primeval  and 

hazy  huge  Titans, 
Just  long  enough  for  a   laugh  to  break  out  like  a 

flash  from  a  storm-cloud. 


94  HOMER  IiV  CHIOS. 

And   to  say  to    me :    Friend,  I    shall  visit    thee 
sometime  in  Chios.'* 


Here  the  poet  himself  was  a  smile  and  dropped 

into  silence 
For  a  minute  or  more,  and  then  he   returned  to 

his  story: 
"Early  to  Argos  I  came  and  heard  in  a  hymn  the 

whole  people 
Chanting  the   glory   of   Diomed,  who  was   their 

valorous  leader, 
How   in   the    war   of   Troy  he   fought  with    the 

Gods,  though  a  mortal. 
Fought  with  two  Trojan  Gods  in  the  might  of 

his  heart,  and  he  conquered ; 
For  the  Greek  though  a  man,  must  put  down  the 

God  if  a  Trojan. 
*  That '  I  said  to  myself  <  is  a  note  in  the  lay  of 

our  Hellas, 
In  the  grand  lay  of  our  Hellas  that  is  a  strain  of 

the  music ; 
Part  of  the  one  vast  temple  of  song  in  the  soul 

of  the  nation, 
I  shall  take  it  and  mould  it  and  build  it  mto  my 

poem.' 
Each  little  fragment  of  life  and  each  stray  film 

of  a  story, 
Name  of  mountain,  river  and  town,  whatever  I 

found  there, 


THE    TRAVELS   OF  IIOMEB.  95 

All  I  picked  up  on  the  spot,  and  began  to  weave 
*  them  together, 

By  the  aid  of  Mnemosyne,  Muse  who  always  re- 
members. 
Then  to  Mycenre  I  went,  the   golden,   where 

dwelt  Agamemnon, 
Through   the    portal    I    passed  that  was  guarded 

above  by  the  Lions, 
Fiercely  glaring  in  stone  at  the  man  who  entered 

their  gateway. 
Much  the  splendid  city  had  waned  from  its  old 

Trojan  glory. 
And  the  look  of  the  sunset  rested  all  day  on  its 

towers. 
There  I  leurned  the  Kins^'s  fate  at  the  hands  of 

his  wife  Clytemnestra, 
And   the   death   of   herself  and  her  lover,  both 

slain  by  Orestes. 
Sad  was  the  tale  of  the  doomful  House  of  the 

Monarch  wide-ruling, 
I  could  never  refrain  from  repeating  that  tale  in 

my  measures. 
Truest    example,  methinks,    of   the   dealing   of 

Gods  with  us  mortals, 
Still  to  be  sung  in  many  new  poems  to  millions 

hereafter. 
It  will  be  poured  into   bronze,  and  hewn  out  of 

whitest  of  marble. 
Told  in  tongues  yet  unborn,  to  measures  unheard 

of  in  Hellas. 


96  HOMER  IN  CHIOS. 

Wretched  indeed  is  the  man,  if  the   Gods  in  his 

pride,  he  obey  not ; 
Base  JEgisthus,  I  feel  in  my  heart  the  point  of 

thy  dagger  !'* 

Fervidly  spake   the  old  man,  and  he  seemed 

overcome  by  his  story. 
Thinking  the  fate  that   befel   the   great   prince 

of  the  Greeks,  Agamemnon. 
To  his  own   life  the   poet  transmuted    the  lives 

of  the  Heroes, 
Every  thread  of  a  fable  he  span  to   a  strand  of 

his  heart-strings. 
Each  wild    word  of  the    wildest  old    legend  he 

caught  and  transfigured. 
Unto  each  sorrow    of    mortal    his   bosom    beat 

mighty  responses; 
Nobly  the  youths  were  led  to  revere  the  man  in 

the  poet. 

Soon  his  gloom  he  had  caught  and  flung  it  far 
back  into  Lethe, 

Whence  at  times  it  escapes  in  the  brightest  of 
souls  up  to  daylight. 

And  he  began,  in  his  countenance  looking  the 
look  of  the  sunrise: 

**  Over  the  heights  I  scrambled,  that  was  a  coun- 
try of  mountains  I 

Woodmen  I  met  in  the  forest,  here  and  there  a 
small  hamlet, 


THE   TRAVELS  OF  HOMER.  97 

But  every  where  I  could  find  some  fragment  of 

song  or  of  story. 
Through  the  glens  I  passed  of  the  piping  Arcadian 

shepherds, 
Through  the   hills  full  of  music  down  into  the 

vale  of  Eurotas, 
Where  lay  Sparta — and  there  was  the  home  of 

the  beautiful  Helen. 
Still  the  palace  I  saw  in  the  sunlight,  where  Paris 

the  Trojan 
As  a  guest  was  grandly  received   by  the   King 

Menelaus, 
And    I  saw  too  the  glance  of  the  eye  and  the 

thought  of  the  woman, 
In  its  first  flash  to  the  fateful  resolve  —  of  wars 

the  beorinninor ! 
Madly  I  followed  each  step   on  the  path  of  the 

sea  as  she  fled  thence. 
Feeling  the  glow  and  the  guilt  of  a  passionate 

world  in  each  heart-beat. 
Watched  her  enter  the  ship,  the  sheltering  ship  of 

her  lover. 
Watched  it  ride  on  the  sea  till  it  vanished  afar  on 

the  waters. 
There  I  sank  on  the  sand,  as  the  dead  man  drops 

from  the  arrow 
Sent  to  his  heart,  and  I  died  for  a  while  in  the 

battle  of  Helen. 
O  Aphrodite,  Goddess  of  joy  that  is  paid  with 

all  sorrow, 

7 


98  HOMEIi  IN  CHIOS. 

Queen  of  the  love  that  bears  in  its  proof  the  bit- 
terest vengeance, 
There  I  fell  down  the  thrall  of  thy  spell,  but  I 

rose  up  the  master. 
Thou  dost  also  possess  in  thy  right  the  soul  of 

the  singer, 
I  was  Paris  myself  and  I  fled  to  the  East  with  my 

Helen, 
Troy  I  was  too  and  its   siege,  I  was   taken  and 

burnt  into  ashes ; 
But  I  am  also  the  law  which  is  read  in  the  flames 

of  the  city, 
And  I  am  the  stern  judgment  of  Gods  who  speak 

from  its  ruins." 

When  the  poet  had  stopped  in  the  rush  of  his 

words  for  a  moment, 
See !  a  youth  stands  forth  with  a  flash  in  his  eye 

like  a  falchion, 
Lycian  Glaucus  it  is,  from  the  banks  of  the  eddy- 
ing Xanthus, 
Grandson  of  Glaucus  who  fell  in  the  war  by  the 

walls  of  the  Trojans, 
Sprung  of   the  seed   of   Heroes,   though   poesy 

now  he  has  chosen ; 
Standing  forth  from  the  ranks  of  his  friends,  thus 

says  ho  to  Homer: 
**  Helen  belonged  to  our  side,   for  she  was  the 

woman  of  beauty, 


THE   TRAVELS   OF  HOMER.  99 

We  had  to  take  her  and  keep  her,    or    lose   the 

heritage  lovely, 
Basely  resign  it  to  others,  and  yield  up  the  claim 

of  fair  Asia. 
Twenty  years  she  was  ours,  of  all  the  great   war 

she  was  worthy. 
Twenty  years  she  was  ours,  and  we  paid  but  the 

price  of  a  city. 
Even  one  moment  of  Helen  is  worth  all  the  losses 

of  Priam." 

Scarce  had   he  done  when   a   valorous   youth 

sprang  out  of  the  front-line 
From  the  opposite  ranks,  as  if  to  respond  to  the 

challenge  ; 
It  was  Demodocus,  son   of  Demodocus,  Ithaca's 

singer, 
Now  in  the  school  of  the  poet  to   learn  the  new 

song  of  the  ages ; 
Far  in  advance  was  the  song  of  all  that  were  sung 

in  his  country 
By  the  old  bards,  his  fathers.     Pointing  his  finger 

at  Glaucus, 
Raising  his  arm  and  smiting  the  air  at  each  word, 

he  spoke  thus  : 
**  Yes,  we  smote  you,  we  burnt  you,  we  bound  you 

when  sated  with  slaughter. 
Women  we  seized  and  your  wealth,   we  wasted 

the  city  and  country. 


100  HOMER  IN  CHIOS. 

Little  was    left  in   the   land,    in   your   gore   we 

painted  our  glory, 
And  the  same  fate  awaits  you  again  if  you  come 

to  the  trial. 
Helen,  the  prize  of  the  world,  you   had  to  sur- 
render forever."  1 

1 
Each  of  the  fiery  speakers  had  spoken  his  speech       I 

in  a  fury ;  | 

See  the  turn !  how  strange !  they  are  looking   no 

more  at  each  other.  '- 

Both  of  them  bending  the   head,  they  covertly 

glance  at  one  object,  \ 

Right  at   one  point  where   stands  the   beautiful       1 

daughter  of  Homer,  i 

As  if  Helen  she  were,  to  be  fought  for  and  won        | 

by  a  nation.  \ 

But  in  the  background  quite  overtopping  them 

all  stood  the  stranger,  i 

Just   behind    the   fair    daughter    he    stood   and 

seemed  to  be  weighing, 
Dreamful,  blue-eyed  Hesperion,  yesterday  come       i 

from  the  Northland,  | 

Now  he  seemed  to  be  weighing  two  weights  in       | 

the  scales  of  a  balance.  I 

■I 
In  the  midst  of  the  din  the  poet  uprose  from       i 

his  settle,  | 

As  great  Zeus  on  Olympus,  the  God  of  the  Greeks       \ 

and  the  Trojans,  j 


THE   TBAVELS   OF.IfOJ^EB.  101 

Who  looks  down   to  the  earth  and   judges   the 
struggle  of  mortals. 

Homer  suddenly  saw  the  old  conflict  arise  in  his 
scholars, 

Every  battle   at   Troy  was  still  in  them  —  how 
could  they  help  it? 

From  the  East  and  the  West  they  hail  come,  from 
Hellas  and  Asia, 

Deep  is   that  scission  of  soul  and  of   time — a 
breach  everlasting, 

Not  to  be  healed  but  by  one  who  is   both  the 
victor  and  vanquished. 

Who  can  feel  the  defeat  triumphant,  the  triumph 
defeated. 

Who  can   be  slayer  and  slain,  and  rise  up  new- 
born from  his  ashes. 

Homer  united  both  sides,  and  both  saluted  him 
poet. 

What  in  them  was  a  discord,  he  turned  into  har- 
mony lasting. 

What  was  twain  in  their  lives,  in  his  he  made  one 
and  a  poem. 

All  had  their  own  completeness  in  him,  so  hailed 
him  as  master. 

When  to  speak  he  began,  one   word  changed 
strife  into  concord : 
♦'  Hold,  O  youths,"  he  cried,    **  cease  wrangling 
at  once  in  my  presence; 


102  ;   r      HOMElf,  IN  CHIOS. 

Lefirn  from  to-day  just  what   is  the  bondage  you 

are  to  get  rid  of ; 
Free  is  the  poet,  but  free  you  are  not  when  ruled 

by  a  passion ; 
Whole  he  must  be,  but  whole  you  are  not  when 

halved  into  parties ; 
Music  you  never  will  make  if  the   soul   hath  a 

break  in  its  tension. 
Hear  entirely ;  now  let  us  go  on  with  the  rest  of 

my  story. 
Over  to  Pylos  I  passed,  and  saw  the  land  of  sage 

Nestor, 
Who   returned   to   his  home  from  the   war  un- 
troubled by  tempest. 
Or  by  the  wrath  of  the  Gods,  which  wrecked  so 

many  returning. 
Older  than  I  am  he  was  when  at  Troy,  and  yet  a 

good  soldier. 
Fond  of  the  fight,  but  of  telling  a  tale  of  his  youth 

still  fonder. 
Thence  I  sailed    to   Ithaca  where   I    heard    of 

Ulysses, 
Wisest  of   men,  he   endured ;  and   enduring,  he 

rose  in  his  wisdom ; 
Great  were   his  deeds  at  Troy,  for  he  was  the 

Hero  who  took  it, 
Mounting  its  walls  by  the  wooden  horse  that  was 

winged  with  his  cunning; 
Over  Achilles  he   rises,  through    might  of  the 

spirit's  contrivance. 


THE    TRAVELS   OP  HOMEB.  103 

But  yet  greater  his  task  was  after  the  city  had 

fallen ; 
To  return  was  the   Hero's  work,  to  return  to  his 

country 
And  to  his  wife,  through  storms  of  the  sea  and 

himself  in  his  doubting. 
Wandering  through  the  whole  world  that  lies  out 

the  sunlight  of  Hellas, 
Into  the  magical  islands  beyond   the  bounds  of 

our  knowledge, 
Suffering     sailed  he  on,  though    losing    all  his 

companions; 
Ithacan  bards  there  told  me  his  tale  of  the  Cyclops, 

of  Circe, 
Even  through  Hades  he  passed,  through  the  realm 

of  spirits  departed; 
Living,  the  Hero  must  go  beyond  life,  and  return 

to  the  living. 
Thither  I  followed  him  too,  in  my  age  I  told  his 

adventures. 
Bringing   him    back    to   Penelope  prudent   and 

Ithaca  sunny ; 
Last  of  my  song  is  this,  it  has  just  lately  been 

finished. 
Though  some  parts  have  been  sung  long  since  at 

the  festivals  Chian, 
Showing  a  glimpse  of  the  West  where  men  find 

always  their  new-world.'' 


104  HOMER  IJSr  CHIOS. 

Thus  he  spake,  and  he  turned,  though  blind, 

with  his  face  to  the  sundown, 
Where   in   his   path  Hesperion,  thoughtful,  was 

standing  in  silence  ; 
But   before   he   began,  interposed  Sophrones  of 

Athens : 
**  Why  such  a  liar  and  rogue  did  you  make  him, 

your  hero  Ulysses?" 
**  Penalty  too  he  must  pay,  the  penalty  even  of 

wisdom," 
Answered  Homerus,  thoughtful,  forecasting  his 

words  for  his  scholars. 
Low  and  slow  he  now  spoke,  as  if  with  his  soul 

he  were  talking: 

*'  Always   the  deed  must  be  paid  for,  the  doer 

heroic  must  suffer. 
Virtue  arouses  revenges  and  duty  may  call  up  the 

Furies; 
Double  the  conflict  must  be,  and  the  right  may 

also  be  double.  -y-.^^u^^a. 

O  Ulysses,  great  was  thy  action,  but  followed  by 

curses !  \ 

The  reward  of  thy  life  will  be  centuries  full  of      | 

reproaches ! 
Wrongful  men  thou  didst  pay  with  their  wrong, 

for  this  expect  judgment; 
Thou  didst  meet  the  guileful  with  guile,  smite 

foes  with  their  weapons, 


THE    TRAVELS  OF  HOMEB.  105 

Thou  shalt  be  rated  as  guileful  and  cruel  in  turn 

for  thine  action. 
Compensation,    the   law,    has    been    laid  by  the 

Gods  upon  nie  too, 
All  the  sunshine  of  nature  is  dark  in  spite  of  ray 

vision. 
Insight  the  Pluses  have  given,  but  for  it  my  sight 

has  been  taken." 

Such  was  the  answer,  but  it  met  not  the  need 

of  Sophrones, 
Who   was  the  moralist  trying  old  tales  with  the 

touchstone  of  virtue, 
Easily  solving  the  problem   heroic  by  rule  or  a 

maxim. 
Excellent  maxim  for  men  who  have  not  the  stress 

of  the  problem. 
Thus  the  worthy  Sophrones  tested  the  life  of  the 

Hero, 
Putting  his  standard    to    each    and    measuring 

strictly  the  defect. 
Hear   him  again,  for  always  Sophrones  has  one 

other  question : 
**  Which  was  right,  the  Greek  or  the  Trojan? 

That  is  the  point  now, 
Truly  the  point  to  be  settled  before  I  can  enter 

this  calling. 
Much  I  have  been  worried  about  it,  and  still  no 

decision. 


106  HOMEB  IN  CHIOS, 

Ere  I   can  sing,   I  must   know  just  what  is  and 

who  are  the  righteous. 
Dare    I  confess?     I  like  not  Achilles,  Ulysses, 

not  Helen, 
Beautiful    Helen  —  she    is  not  beautiful  seen  by 

my  vision, 
Nor  can  1  love  Penelope  prudent  with   all  of  her 

cunning; 
Aye,  the  Gods  of  Olympus  I  like  not,  I  cannot 

adore  them  ; 
Zeus  do  you  think  I  can  worship,  a  God  with  the 

passions  that  I  have?'* 

Homer,  the  poet,  was  silent;  Sophrones,  how- 
ever, grew  louder: 
**  Best  of  them  all  is  Hector  the  Trojan,  the  man 

most  perfect. 
True  to  the  wife  of  his  heart  and  doing  his  duty 

to  country. 
Brave  as  a  lion  in  war  and  gentle  at  home  as  a 

woman. 
But,  like  the  good  man  always,  he  had  to  fall  in 

the  struggle. 
And    by  fate  to  lose  what  he  fought  for  —  his 

cause  and  his  city. 
Such  is  the  world  —  the  great  men  are  bad   and 

the  good  men  must  perish.** 

On  the  spot  the  sparkles  were  flying  from  one 
of  the  scholars, 


THE    TBAVELS  OF  HOMER.  107 

It  wasGlaucus  who  spoke,  the  fiery  Lycian  bard- 
ling  : 
**  He  was  right  —  great   Hector — defending 
his  home  and  his  nation 

From  the  wanton  attack  of  the  bandits  who  sought 
to  destroy  them  ; 

Valiant  in  every  way  he  was  for  his  land  and  his 
people, 

He  is  the  Hero  of   Homer,  I  say,  the  only  true 
Hero; 

Hector  was  right,  will  be  right  forever,  and  he  was 
a  Trojan." 

Then  he  turned  to  one  of  the  company  seeking 
approval. 

Just  from  one  and  no  more  he  sought  it  —  the 
daughter  of  Homer, 

Not  from  the  father  the  poet,  but  from  the  beau- 
tiful daughter 

Sought  he  the  meed  of  a  glance  for  his  verses, 
but  she  beheld  not, 

For  she  was  looking  away  from  the  youths  in  an- 
other direction. 

But  in  answer  Demodocus  spoke,  his  vigorous 

rival, 
Rival  not  only  in  verse,  but  also  in  love  of  the 

maiden : 
*«  Yes,  but  he  fought   for  the  thing    that    was 

wrong  and  he  knew  it  —  your  Hector  I 


108  HOMEB  IN  CHIOS. 

For  the  rape  of  Helen  he  fought  and  made  it  his 

own  thus  ; 
Aye,  the  good  husband  battled  in  Troy  to   keep 

wife  from  husband. 
What  in  his  soul  he  condemned,  he  supported  by 

arms  and  by  words  too, 
And  so  died  of  a  lie  in  his  life  and  the  spear  of 

Achilles/' 

Suiting  the  act  to  the  speech,  Demodocus  drew 

back  and  lifted 
Hand  and  arm  to  a  poise,  as  if  he  were  hurling  the 

weapon 
Straight  at  Hector,  to  slay  him  before  the  battle- 
ments Trojan; 
Lycian  Glaucus  shrank  not,  but  leaped  to  the 

front  at  the  challenge. 
Great  was  the  uproar;  the  war  of  Troy  once 

more  was  beginning 
Right  in  the  school  of  Homer,  but  quickly  the 

master  bade  silence : 
**  Hearken,  O  youths,  what  I  say,    and    learn 

by  example  a  lesson  I 
Not  a  part  is  the  poet,  nor  is  he  owned  by  a 

party. 
On  which  side  do  I  sing  in  my  poem  —  the  Greek 

or  the  Trojan? 
Mark  it  —  on  both  and  on  neither ;  the  will  of 

Zeus  is  accomplished, 


THE    TBAVELS  OF  HOMEB.  109 

God   supreme  of  the  Hellenes,  rising  above  all 

conflict. 
Not  with  another,  but  with  himself  is  the  poet's 

true  struggle, 
He   is   the  slayer  and  slain   and  his    soul  is  the 

place  of  the  battle. 
Much  I   think  with  the  Greeks  and  much  I  feel 

with  the  Trojans, 
These  have   my  heart  perchance,  but  those  take 

hold  of  my  reason ; 
Zeus  too  loves  his  dear  children  in  Troy,  but  de- 
cides for  Achsea. 
Ah,  the   poet  must  fight  in  himself  the  dolorous 

combat. 
As  the   God  fought  the  God  in  the  fray  on  the 

heights  of  Olympus; 
Wounds   he  cannot  escape,  he  must  bleed  in  the 

battle  on  both  sides; 
Showing  the  strife  of  the  time,  he  shows  too  the 

strife  in  his  bosom. 
But  he  must  heal  it  — just  that  is  the  seal  of  the 

God  on  the  singer; 
Kage,    war,  battles   he  sings,  but  also  the  peace 

and  atonement. 
Sings   great  Achilles    in  wrath,    and  reconciled 

sings  great  Achilles. 
Now   let   the  truce  be  confirmed  between    both 

the  Greeks  and  the  Trojans, 
And  in  our  joy  we  shall  pour  to  the  Gods  a  hearty 

libation." 


110  HOMER  IN  CHIOS. 

Tall  Hesperion  silently  heard  the  dispute  of  the 

bard  lings, 
Much  he  had  learned  about  Hellas,  and  seen  the 

two  sides  of  the  conflict. 
Seen  it  still  living  and  parting  atwain  the  new 

generation, 
Who  were  ready  to  fight  over  Troy,  and  over  its 

poem. 
But  the  best  was,  he  saw  the  poet  bring  both 

sides  to  oneness, 
Out  of  discordance  bring  harmony  lofty  of  men 

and  of  Gods  too. 
Making  the    tumult    of    war   sing  the  song  of 

Olympian  order. 

Homer  in  happiest  mood  uprose  and  continued 

his  talking: 
**  Youths,  Demodocus,  Ghiucus,  now  heal  ye  the 

wounds  of  each  other. 
Thinking  the  thought  of  high  Zeus,  as  it  sings  to 

a  melody  god-born, 
Speaking  divinity's  word  which  is  sprung  of  the 

soul's  recognition. 
Valiant  ye  be,  but  let  us  proclaim,  the  war    is 

now  over, 
All  in  one  joy  to  day  let  the  East  and  the  West 

greet  as  brothers, 
Each  of  them  taking  the  best  of  the  other  as 

test  of  his  spirit!** 


THE   TBAVELS   OF  HOMEB.  HI 

Turning  aside,  he  spoke  out  the  word  of  com- 
mand in  a  transport : 
»<  Speed  thee,  Amyntas,   my  boy,  a  full   jar  of 

old  Chian,  the  oldest, 
Ten  years'  ripe  let  it  be,  for   age  in   the  wine 

bringeth  wisdom 
Back  to  the  drinker,  in  concord  attuning  anew 

the  lost  temper, 
Brinofinjr  the   oneness  of  truth   into   souls   that 

differ  by  nature. 
Here  comes  the  wine,  already  I  catch  a  whiff  of 

its  fragrance, 
Oldest  of  Chian  it  is,  a  God  would  mistake  it  for 

nectar. 
Glaucus,  Demodocus,    Gyges,    Plexippus,    and 

Aphroditorus, 
Noble  Hesperion  also,  thou  valorous  youth  of  the 

Northland, 
Pledge  now  a  health  to  yourselves,  and  pour  to 

the  Gods  a  libation.*' 

All  the  youths   of  the   school,  most    willing, 

obeyed  the  good  master. 
Touched  loving  lips  to  the  brim  of  the  wine  on 

the  rim  of  the  beaker. 
Pledging  a  health  to  themselves  and  pouring  to 

Gods  a  libation. 

Hark  !  mid  the  draught  a  shrill  noise  is  disturb- 
ing the  tiow  of  the  liquid, 


112  HOMER  IN  CHIOS. 

'Tis  the  rickety  gate  as  grinding  it  grates  on  its 

hinges. 
Opening  first  to  a  push,  then  backward  it  slams 

with  a  racket; 
What    is    the    shape    that    noisily    enters    and 

shuffles  along  there? 
Man  well-known  in  Chios  he  is,  well-known  unto 

Homer, 
Satisfied  man  with  himself  he  seems   by  the  turn 

of  his  features. 
That  is  the  pedagogue,  first  of  the  island,  the  lord 

of  the  laurel, 
Which  he  doth  use  as  a  switch  for  teaching  the 

verses  of  poets, 
Teaching  the   boys  of   his  school  the  glory  and 

gift  of  the  Muses, 
Whose  fair  branch  he  now  twirls  in  his  hand  as 

he  turns  up  the  pathway. 
Terrible  pedagogue  Chian  he  comes,  the  thrasher 

and  slasher, 
Thrashing  the  youths  into  lore  and  slashing  the 

poets  to  pieces. 
Into  the  school  of  Homer  he  walks  —  he  is  here  — 

O  Typtodes  I 


VI. 


The  Pedagogue  Chian. 


(113) 


ARGUMENT. 

A  rival  school  to  that  of  Homer  is  taught  by  Typtodes, 
the  Chian  schoolmaster^  who  comes  one  day  to  have  a 
short  visit  with  the  poet.  Typtodes  is  the  severe  critic 
of  Homer^s  poems,  and  cuts  them  to  pieces  quite  as 
some  modern  professors  have  done.  But  the  school- 
master is  a  progressive  man  and  is  now  specially  inter- 
ested in  the  new  script  which  has  been  brought  from 
Phoenicia,  In  fact  he  is  giving  to  the  poem^  of  Homer 
their  first  alphabetic  dress  in  spite  of  his  criticism.  It 
turns  out  that  Typtodes  has  really  come  to  see  the  daugh- 
ter of  the  poet,  though  he  disguises  the  fact.  But  his 
hitter  criticism  is  modified  by  the  wine  which  Homer 
causes  to  be  brought  him,  and  his  final  questions  are  in 
a  different  vein  from  his  first  utterances.  A  neto  man 
appears  who  will  give  some  answer  to  what  Typtodes  has 
asked. 


(114) 


Not  alone  and  unchallenged  the  poet  held  sway 

in  his  city, 
There  was  a  rival  in  Chios,  who  in  his  realm  was 

the  ruler. 
Most  of  the  youths  of  the  place  were  sent  to  the 

school  of  Typtodes, 
Crusty  Typtodes,  a  far-famed   trouncer  of  boys 

into  learning, 
Tickling  bare  legs  of  Greek  boys  till  they  danced 

to  the  sprig  of  his  laurel, 
Which  he  always  held  in  his  hand  while  he  made 

them  con  verses, 
Rousing   the  Muses   unwilling  by  use    of   their 

favorite  symbol. 

(115) 


116  HOMER  IN  CHIOS. 

Some  were  verses  struck  at  a  heat  from  the  heart 
of  a  poet, 

With  an  Olympian  might,  and  flowing  and  glow- 
ing forever 

In  the  fire  and  flash  of  the  words  of  the  primal 
conception. 

But  the  others,  the  most,  were  his  own,  the  ped- 
agogue's verses. 

Made  without  a  mistake  according  to  rule  in  his 
school-room, 

Flawlessly  made  out  of  wood,  the  toughest  wood 
in  the  forest. 

In  his  sandals  he  shuffles  along  the  loose  stones 

of  the  pathway; 
Slyly  he  shuffles  and  seems  to  be  slipping  about 

on  his  tiptoes. 
As  the  schoolmaster  warily  slippeth  around   in 

the  school-room. 
Seeking  to  catch  in  the  act  the  bad  boy  who  is 

making  the  mischief. 
Gaunt    and    ungainly    the    man,    and    somewhat 

stilted  in  posture, 
Sparse  was  the  beard,  each  hair  from  his  visage 

shot  out  like  a  bristle 
Ready  to  stick  and  to  prick  any  person  approach- 
ing too  near  him. 
Even  the  kiss  of  Typtodes  had  the  keen  point  of 

a  briar. 


THE  PEDAGOGUE   CHIAN.  117 

Thin  was  the  nap  on  his  garment,  exact  each  step 

that  he  took  there, 
Always  the  branch  of  the  laurel  he  held  in  his 

hand  while  walking 
Had  in  its  swaying  upward   and  downward  the 

look  of  precision. 
Sharp  was  the  thrust  of  his  eye,  as  it  peered  from 

the  hole  of  the  eyebrows, 
Slightly  barbed  was   the   point  of  his   nose,  no 

mercy  allowing, 
No  escape  for  the  foe ;  his  whole  visage  seemed 

pointed  and  ready. 
Even  his  look  was  a  cut  and  his  tongue  had  two 

edges  of  sharpness. 
Yet  the  man  had  his  virtues — industry,  feeling 

of  duty. 
Faith  in  knowledge  he  never  gave  up,  in  spite  of 

reverses. 
And,  on  the  whole,  he  believed  in  the  movement 

of  men  to  the  better. 
Bearer  of  light  to  Chios  he  was,  when    the  day 

was  beginning. 
Homer  he  was  not,  and  yet  but  for  him  there  had 

been  no  Homer, 
Whom  he  first  put  into  script  from  the  word  and 

made  everlasting. 
By   the   skill  which  he  had  in  tracing  Phoenician 

letters. 
This  fair  day  he  has  come  to  have  a  good  visit 

with  Homer, 


118  HOMEB  IN  CHIOS. 

Whom  as  a  man  he  liked,  as  a  fellow-craftsman 
respected, 

Deeming  himself  to  be,  however,  the  much  bet- 
ter poet. 

Though  the  world  had  passed  on  the  men  a  differ- 
ent judgment. 

He  had  heard  of  the  beauty,  too,  of  the  daughter 
of  Homer ; 
Living  in  the  same  town  all  his  life  he  never  had 

seen  her. 
Never  had   seen  her,    though  knowing  by  heart 

every  word  of  her  parent. 
Not  too   young  to   be  curious,  not  too  old  was 

Typtodes, 
Pedagogue  Chian  who  sought  for  a  glimpse  of 

the  beautiful  maiden. 
Though,    of   course,  he  pretended  to  come  for  a 

chat  with  the  father. 

Settled  down  in  his  seat  he  began  to  talk  of  his 

methods, 
How  the  rule  had  been  found,  and  the  glory  was 

great  of  the  finder. 
*'  Yes,  methinks  I  have  brought  to  perfection  this 

science  of  teaching  I 
Surely  not  much  will  the  schoolmaster  have  to  be 

doing  hereafter 
But  to  follow,  ages  on  ages,  the  steps  of  Typtodes. 


THE  PEDAGOGUE   CHI  AN.  119 

What  great   progress  to-day  we   are  making  in 

every  department ! 
Some  weeks  ago  a  new  churn   was  invented  by 

Phagon  of  Samos, 
Hither  he  brought  it  at  once  and  showed  it  around 

in  our  island; 
Soon  each  household  of  Chios  will  have  it,  soon 

will  be  churning, 
Churning  away  for  dear  life  the  milk  of  the  kine 

of  the  country ; 
Barbarous   oil-eatinor   Greeks    will    chanoje  into 

eaters  of  butter, 
That    is    improvement,    that,    I  call,  the  grand 

march  of  the  species  ! 
Only  one  fear  I  cannot  help  feeling  amid  all  our 

progress ; 
All  the  world  will  have  nothing  to  do  ,  and  so  will 

do  nothing, 
After  that  we  are  gone,  and  have  left  it  the  fruit 

of  our  labor ; 
Idleness  is  the  great  curse,  our  children  will  have 

to  be  idle  ; 
Such  is  my  fear ;  so  I  one  day   have  resolved  to 

take  easy; 
Having  dismissed  my  school,  I  would  dally  awhile 

in  your  garden, 
Leave  the  words  of  the  poem  behind  and  talk  with 

the  poet.'' 

Here  he  stopped  for  a  moment  and  slyly  was 
peeping  around  him, 


120  HOMEB  IN  CHIOS. 

Once,  twice,  thrice  he  looked,  and  every  look  was 

a  question. 
Asking,  **  Where,  I  wonder?"  but  without  any 

answer, 
Though  he  could  hear  a  sweet  stray  note  now  and 

then  from  an  arbor. 
In  its  stead  unwilling  he  heard  the  voice  of  old 

Homer : 
*'  Friend,  have  you  any  new  light  on  the  dark  way 

of  life  ?  —  O  give  it  — 
Some    fresh    word  upon  fate  or  the  law  or  the 

wonderful  secret; 
Eyesight  is  gone,  and  often  I  feel  the  bounds  of 

my  insight; 
Often  I  feel  the  bounds  of  the  word  in  the  stress 

of  the  spirit.'^ 

Then  began  in  the  height  of  his  mood  the  peda- 
gogue Chian : 

**  We  have  lately  been  reading,  or  rather  reciting 
your  poems. 

Since  in  the  school  or  the  market  they  still  for 
the  ear  are  recited. 

Though  I  myself  can  read  those  recent  Phoenician 
symbols. 

Catching  the  sound  of  the  voice  in  the  devious 
tracery  of  letters ; 

I  alone  of  all  of  the  men  in  the  island  of  Chios, 

I  can  wind  out  the  hibyrinth  weird  made  of 
strange  Alphu-Beta, 


THE  PEDAGOGUE   CHI  AN.  121 

Follow  the  clew  to  the  end  and  bring  back  the 

prize  that  is  hidden, 
Hidden  away  by  a  spell  in  the  heart  of  the  char- 
acters mystic. 
Into  those  signs   I  have  been  transforming  the 

voice  of  your  verses, 
Scratching  the  musical  sound  into  signs   which 

now  are  called  letters, 
Magical  symbols  of  fast-fleeting   speech,   which 

fix  it  forever. 
Holding   it  firm   to  the  sight  when   the   tongue 

which  spake  it,  is  silent. 
But  not  yet  I  have  seen  your  beautiful  daughter, 

Homerus, 
Whom  Fame  whispers  abroad  in  every  nook  of 

our  Hellas." 

*'  O   good  man,'*  said  the  poet,  *'  aught  more 

would  I  hear  of  this  wonder, 
Which   has  caught   and  is  holding  the  word  to 

make  it  eternal ; 
Fate  forbids  me  to  see  it.  Oh  then  let  me  learn  of 

the  marvel 
Changing  the  world  at  a  stroke  by  giving  the  past 

to  the  future." 

Crabbed   Typtodes  perchance  was  not  pleased 
with  the  turn  of  the  answer, 
But  he  began  on  the  spot  to  speak  out  the  thing 
that  was  in  him : 


122  HOMEB  IN  CHIOti. 

'*  Let  that  pass  —  all  that  which  I  said  of  Phoe- 
nician letters. 

We  have  glanced  these  days  down  into  the  depths 
of  your  poems; 

Now  I  am  going  to  speak  you  the  word  of  friend- 
ship and  frankness. 

You,  I  find,  are  not  accurate,  shifting  the  dates 
of  your  action, 

Not  quite  correct  in  the  facts,  and  you  give  your 
twist  to  the  story. 

All  your  tales  of  the  Gods  are  turned  to  the 
bent  of  your  thinking, 

Somehow  changed  from  the  old  they  seem  to  be 
bearing  your  impress. 

Often  you  make  in  your  spring  important  mis- 
takes in  the  measure, 

Short  where  it  ought  to  be  long,  and  long  where 
it  ought  to  be  shortened. 

Forcing  the  stress  of  the  voice  in  places  where  it 
belongs  not. 

And  I  hold  the  hexameter  is  not  fit  for  your 
poem. 

Which,  so  rapid  in  movement,  should  not  be 
delayed  by  the  meter ; 

If  you  only  had  asked  me,  I  could  have  told  you 
a  better. 

Nay,  I  deem  that  measure  not  suitable  to  the 
Greek  language, 

Which  has  a  boisterous  genius  not  to  be  swaddled 
in  long  clothes ; 


THE  PEDAGOGUE  CHI  AN.  123 

You  should  remember  from  Troy  the  Greeks  no 
longer  are  babies. 

Hark   to  a  verse  of  your  poem,  describing  far- 
darting  Apollo, 

Which  should   be   simple   and  rapid  and  grand, 
divine  in  its  movement ; 

Slowly  it  drags  along  and  cumbers  its  flight  with 
its  lumber. 

Then  at  the  end  it  suddenly  whisks  and  swashes 
its  tail  round. 

What  a  blasphemy  !  Phoebus  will  take  from  his 
quiver  an  arrow, 

Sly  invisible  arrow,  penalty  due  to  the  Muses, 

Put  the  notch  to  the  bow-string  and  pull  it  —  be- 
hold! who  is  stricken  !" 

Warmed  to  his  work  was  shrilly  Typtodes, 
and  so  he  continued. 

Cruelly  lashing  himself  into  slashing  to  frag- 
ments the  poet : 

**And  that  mixture  of  words  from  every  part  of 
our  Hellas, 

Mixture  poetic  of  fragments  of  speech  from 
island  and  mainland, 

Doric,  Ionic,  ^olic,  how   can  it  ever  be  lasting? 

It  is  a  wonder  that  people  to-day  are  willing  to 
hear  it ; 

No  such  jargon  has  ever  been  spoken  by  Greek 
or  Barbarian, 


124  HOMER  IN   CHIOS, 

Crumbs   from  the  table  of  tongues — and  that  is 

the  language  of  Homer. 
Though  to  nature  it  be  not  kin,  still  I  put  it  in 

writing, 
And   I  study  it  too,  though  I  have  to  tear  it  to 

fragments ; 
What  seems  substance  turns  in  my  hands  to  the 

flimsiest  shadow, 
I  confess  I  have  pleasure  in  knocking  nothing  to 

pieces. 
All  to  pieces  I  knock  it  so  that  it  appears  to  be 

something.  " 

Satisfied  well  with  his  work,  Typtodes  contin- 
ued in  judgment: 
"  Nor    are   your   characters   always   consistent, 

however  heroic, 
Diomed  changes,  Ulysses  is  never  the  same  in 

two  stories, 
And  your  implacable  Hero  is  placated  twice  in 

his  anger. 
Homer  himself  is  never  the  same,  but  shifts  to 

another, 
Dozens  and  dozens  of  Homers  I  find  ensconced 

in  your  verses. 
Your  large  poem  doth  fall  of  itself  into  many 

small  poems. 
Which,  I  know,  were  sung  by  hundreds  of  singers 

before  you, 


THE  PEDAGOGUE   CIIIAN.  125 

Who  were  the  primitive  makers  of  what  you  have 

gathered  and  taken ; 
You  are  but  a  collection  of  songs,  a  string  of 

loose  ballads. 
You  are  not  one  and  a  plan,  but  many  you  are 

and  planless. 
Now  I  shall  state  to  your  face  the  final  result  of 

my  wisdom  : 
Homer,  aye  Homer  himself  is  not  the  true  author 

of  Homer." 

Up  rose  the  pedagogue  Chian  and  stretched  to 

the  height  of  his  stature, 
Whirled  his  ponderous  arm  as  if  a  boy  he  were 

flogging, 
Slashing  the  verses  of  Homer,  a  pupil  he  seemed 

to  be  thrashing, 
Terrible     pedagogue     Chian,    the    slasher    and 

thrasher  Typtodes. 

But  in  response  he  called  up  the  cheerful  humor 

of  Homer: 
**  Take  my  book  and  study  it  further;  perchance 

you  can  read  it 
In  that  new  sort  of  script  which  you  say  has  come 

from  Phoenicia. 
One  is  the  book  if  you  are  one  and  can  ever  be 

happy. 
Wholeness  first  being  found  in  yourself,  is  found 

then  outside  you. 


12G  HOMER  IN  CHIOS. 

I  am  halved  and  quartered  if  you  are  a  half  or  a 

quarter, 
But  a  whole  I  shall  be,  if  you  are  a  whole  in  my 

study ; 
Discord  enough  you  will  find  in  my  poem,  if  you 

be  discordant, 
Discord  enough  in  the  world  if  harmony  to  you 

be  wautmg. 
But  those  wonderful  letters  —  would  I  raiffht  see 

them  and  read  them  ! 
Ere  I  pass  from   this   earth,  I  would  know  the 

Phoenician  letters!" 

Mild  was  the  manner  and  sweet  was  the  voice 

of  the  godlike  singer, 
Dropping  transparent    as   pearls    the    beautiful 

words  of  his  wisdom, 
Showing  in  chilly  old  age  the  upspring  of  young 

aspiration. 
But  that  terrible  fragment  of  man,  the  trouncer 

Typtodes, 
Spake  once  more,  and  showed  in  his  voice  a  dash 

of  resentment : 
**  My  next  business  will  be  to  cut  up  your  book 

into  ballads, 
I  shall  put  the  keen  knife  of  this  brain  to  each 

joint  of  your  body. 
Though  I  be  but  a  half  or  a  quarter,  or  less  than 

a  quarter. 


THE  PEDAGOGUE  CHIAN.  127 

You  shall  be  smaller  than  1  am,  you  I  shall  chop 

into  mince-meat." 
**  In   dissecting,    oft  the  dissector  himself  is 

dissected; 
What  to  another  he  fits,  may  fit  just  the  fitter," 

said  Homer. 
«*  What  a  prophet  you  are?    In  you  I  foresee  the 

grand  army 
Who  will  cut  me  and  stab  me  with  every  sort  of 

a  weapon. 
Gashing  and   slashing  my  whole   poetical  body 

to  fragments. 
Still  I  affirm  your  army  so  grand  can  never  defeat 

me, 
I  shall  remain  as  I  am,  the  wounds  will  return  to 

the  giver. 
But  let   us  stop  this  pitiful  wrangle,  it   wholly 

untunes  me ; 
Harmony,  wisdom,  hope  it  hath  not,  but  ends  in 

mere  nothing. 
Cheerful  now  let  us  pour  to  the  Gods   a  hearty 

libation. 
Then  let  us  pour  to  ourselves  a  good  draught  in 

the  warmth  of  our  worship." 

Mellowed  at  once  to  the  rhythm  of  wine  Typ- 
todes  gave  answer  : 
**  Now  you  are  truly  a  poet,  with  fresh  inspira- 
tion you  touch  me ; 


128  HOMEB  IN  CHIOS.  1 

Wine  is  a  poem  in  drops,  which  you  easily  sip  in 

small  verselets;  ] 

That  hexameter  which  you  just  made  while  urg-  ; 

ing  libation,  j 
Was  a  good  one  —  the   best,  to   my  taste,  you 

ever  have  spoken.  \ 
Better,  I  think,  I  shall  now  understand  the  drift 

of  your  verses."  | 

Look  !  a  beautiful  figure  has  flitted  past  to  the  j 

garden;  | 

Is  it  a   sudden  dream,  a  phantom  of  vision  fan- 
tastic? ] 

No ;  Typtodes    has    caught    a    glimpse    of  the  \ 

daughter  of  Homer,  ■ 

Caught  one  fitful  glimpse  of  the  shape   of   the 

beautiful  maiden,  j 

More  he   longed  f()r  and  looked  for,  but   he  re-  I 

ceived  not  the  second,  : 

**  Now  I  would  know,"  he  said,  **  how  you  build  i 

with  such  skill  your  grand  temple,  i 

How  you  turn  your  soul  into  music  that  flows  in  | 

your  measures,  | 
How  you  turn  all  the  world  into  harmony  wedded 

to  beauty,  I 

How  you  call  down  the  Gods  themselves  from  the  \ 

heights  of  Olympus?  "  | 

**  Bravely,"  the  poet  replied,  **  you  aim  at  the  i 

white  of  the  mark  now  ;  \ 


THE  PEDAGOGUE   CHIAN.  129 

But  it  is  not  my  calling  to  point  out  the  path  of 

the  Muses 
In  their  flight  through  the  air  down  to  men  from 

the  top  of  Parnassus. 
Surely  enough  it  is  if  I  hear  them  when  they  are 

singing, 
And  repeat  their  melodious  strain  in  its  fullness 

to  mortals. 
Faint  is  the  note  at  first,  but  it  goes  on  extending 

and  swelling, 
Till  it  sweeps  to  its  musical  train  the  whole  earth 

and  the  heaven, 
Tuning  the  discord  below  and  above,  of  men  and 

of  Gods  too.'' 
**  But  whence  cometh  the  world  of  the  Gods  and 

their  sway  on  Olympus? 
To  the  beginning  I  wish  to  return  and  make  my 

inquiry.'' 

So  spake  Typtodes,  when  a  new  figure  rose 

over  a  hillock 
Walking  out  of  the  distance,  amid  the  orchard  of 

olives. 
**  Aye,  whence  cometh  the  man,  who  goes  to  the 

Houses  of  Hades? 
What  is  he  here  for  —  the  mortal  of  clay  once 

shaped  by  Prometheus? 
And  the  woman,  his  mate,  the  beautiful,  fateful, 

what  is  she?" 

9 


130  HOMEB  IN  CHIOS. 

Asking  he  glanced  to  the  right  and  the  left  for 

the  daughter  of  Homer,  i 

Nowhere  he  saw  her,  but  in  her  stead  he  beheld  \ 

through  the  leaflets,  ! 

Slowly  approaching,  the  man  he  had  seen  before  ; 
in  the  distance. 

Such  were  the  questions  which  eager  Typtodes  | 

put  to  Homer  us,  ; 

Who  replied  not,  but  seemed  of  something  else  to  \ 

be  thinking.  \ 

Hark  to  the  groan  of  the  gate  which  suddenly  j 

grinds  on  its  hinges !  j 


VII, 


The   Singer   of  Ascra, 


(131) 


ARGUMEISTT. 

The  person  approachinfj  turns  out  to  be  Hesiod,  the 
poet  of  Ascra  in  Boeotia^  whom  Homer  had  met  in  his 
travels  and  tohom  he  had  invited  to  come  on  a  visit  to 
Chios.  Hesiod  is  received  by  his  brother  poet^  and  tells 
his  story  of  the  Gods,  and  his  view  of  the  world.  He, 
too,  will  see  and  know  the  daughter  of  Homer,  though 
he  has  710  good  opinion  of  ivoman.  Finally  he  beholds 
her,  when,  for  a  sa'^casm  on  her  sex,  sh^  gives  him  a 
tart  reply.  The  old  Greek  misogymist  and  pessimist 
slips  away  from  the  company,  and  vanishes  out  of  Chios 
at  the  appearance  of  another  woman,  the  songstress  of 
Lesbos. 


(132) 


All  start  up  at  the  stridulous  sound  to  see  what  is 

coming, 
When   a   stranger  moves  into  the  path    of   the 

eye  to  the  heavens, 
Leisurely  comes  down  the  walk  which  leads  to  the 

garden  of  Homer, 
Beautiful  garden  of  fruit  and  of  flowers,  of  shade 

and  of  sunshine. 
Broad    and    bony    the  hand  of   the    man,  and 

knotted  the  knuckles. 
Trained  to  whirling  the  ax  by  the  helve  in  the 

woods  on  the  mountain. 
Trained  to   holding  the  plow  by  the  handle    in 

turning  the  furrow, 
Used  to  toil  were  his  palms,  and  hardened  to 

horn  by  his  labor. 

(133) 


134  UOMEB  m  CHIOS. 

Great  strong  lines  he  had  in  his  face  dividing  it 
cros-jwise, 

Also  dividing  it  lengthwise  to  network  of  val- 
ley and  mountain, 

Which  would  rise  and  fall  into  billows  of  rough 
corrugations ; 

Surely  that  face  was  a  battle,  the  battle  of  Gods 
and  of  Titans, 

Seizing  and  hurling  volcanoes  aflame  in  their 
wrath  at  each  other. 

Under  his  features  was  lying  a  scowl,  which 
seemed  to  be  born  there, 

Which  would  dart  from  its  lair  in  his  look,  spit- 
ting fire  like  a  dragon ; 

Strange  was  the  tone  of  his  speech,  yet  stranger 
his  play  of  grimaces, 

Lips  would  writhe  at  each  word,  as  if  it  were 
sore  to  be  spoken. 

Hark !  he  is  ready  to  speak  and  turns  to  the  poet 
of  Chios  : 


♦*  Over  the  sea  I  have  come  in  a  ship  from  the 

mainland  of  Hellas ; 
Voyage  unblest,    for  Poseidon    was  trying  each 

minute  to  drown  me, 
Dashing  his   waves   on  the   craft  and   mightily 

cleaving  the  waters ; 
Often  he  opened  his  jaws  and  shut  them  tight  on 

the  vessel, 


THE  SINGEB   OF  ASCBA.  135 

How  I  escaped  I  know  not,  but  salted  and  scared 

I  escaped  him . 
Heavy  Bceotia  is  my  home,  my  village  is  Ascra, 
Ugly  village  of  Ascra,  vile  in  the  summer   and 

winter. 
There  I  sang  of  the  Birth  of  the  Gods  and   the 

Works  of  poor  mortals, 
Mortals,  who  sweating  and  swinking  in  life,  die 

at  last  in  a  discord.'* 

**  What  a  note  is  that  in  the  sunlight  of  Chios,'* 

cried  Homer, 
*<  Who  art  thou,  man?     Some  tricks  of  thy  voice 

I  have  heard  in  my  travels." 
Twisting  his  face  into  scowls,  as  if  he  were  tasting 

of  wormwood, 
Spake  the  poet  of  Ascra,  and  spitefully  spat  out 

the  bitter : 
**  Well  thou    knowest,   for   thou  hast  borrowed 

some  of  my  verses, 
Hiding  the  source  in  a  word,  thou  hast  called  it 

the  breath  of  the  Muses. 
Once   I   sang   for  thee  when  thou  hadst  come  to 

my  home  in  thy  journey. 
Sang  of  the  eldest  Gods  who  were  born  of  Chaos 

primeval, 
For  I  like  to  go  back  to  the  start,  though  it  be 

all  in  darkness. 
Origin  ever  I  seek,  although  I  can  never  quite 

reach  it. 


136  HOMEB  IN  CHIOS. 

What  a  pleasure  to  run  from  the  sheen  of  the 
sun  back  to  nothing ! 

This  Olympian  order  of  thine,  it  came  of  dis- 
order, 

Which  is  my  burden  of  song  reaching  back  to 
the  very  beginning ; 

Even  this  beautiful  day  now  sporting  in  joy  of 
the  sunshine, 

Not  long  ago  was  born  of  the  night  and  to  niglit 
it  returneth/' 

*'Hail,  O  brother,''  said  Homer,  the  bard,  to 

the  poet  of  Ascra, 
**  I   have  heard  thee  before  on  Helicon  —  now  I 

remember  — 
Bleak  was  the  day  and  hoarse  was  the  wind  that 

blew  up  the  valley. 
Be  at  home,  O  guest ;  give  us  more  of  thy  song  — 

I  would  listen.'* 

Then  again  the  poet  of  Ascra  seemed  tasting  of 

wormwood. 
Ere  his  strain  he  began  in  the  stress  of  a  mighty 

upheaval ; 
Soon  into  thunderous  words  he  let  out  the  soul 

of  old  Chaos: 
**  All  this  isle,  this  world,  as  we  see  it,  was  once 

but  a  monster. 
Peopled  with  monsters  grim  in  the  grey  of  the 

distant  aforetime; 


THE   SINGER   OF  ASCBA.  137 

There  I  love  to  dwell  with  old  Cronus  who  swal- 
lowed his  offspring, 
Eren  to  Uranus  oft  I  go  back  for  a  gaze  in  the 

twilight, 
And   I  dally   with   Nereus,  parent  of   beautiful 

daughters, 
Thousandfold  forms  of  the  billows  rising,  rolling, 

retreating, 
Fleeting  forever  away  in  the  haze  of  the  distant 

horizon. 
Leaping  anew  into  life  as  they  rise  to  the  top  of 

the  sea-swell. 
O  for  the  mightiest  monsters  of  old !  I  tell  you, 

I  like  them  ; 
All  day  long  I  could  sing  of   the  terrible  brood 

of  the  Gorgons, 
Triple-headed,  hundred-handed,  thousand-legged, 
Cerberus,   Briareus,   Hydra,   Chimaera,  Echidna 

the  lizard ; 
What  is  Olympus  to  these,  with  its  Gods  who 

dwell  in  the  sunshine  ! 
Once  in  this  world  lived  a  people  I  loved  —  the 

Giants  and  Titans, 
Who  could  hurl  as  weapons  of  war  huge  mount- 
ains and  rivers. 
Heaven  itself  they  would  storm  and  break  down 

the  limit  of  mortals, 
Which  the  Gods  once  set  in  their  envy  when  man 

they  created. 


138  HOMEB  IN  CHIOS. 

Long  the   battle  was   fought,    the    stormers  of 

heaven  were  vanquished, 
Now  see  them  whirl  —  down,  down  they  spin  to 

Tartarus  sooty, 
By  the  Olympians  whisked  off   the  earth-ball  to 

infinite  spaces. 
Where  they  lie  under  ban  of  falling,  falling  for- 
ever. 
Still  in  the  Upperworld  sunny  they  wrought  for 

the  ages  great  wonders ; 
This  fair   island,    this    sea,  yon   mountains  are 

showing  their  power. 
Lofty,    grandiloquent  words  are   my  colors,  by 

which  I  can  paint  them, 
Words  that  are  sung  in   mine  ear  by  the  high 

Heliconian  Muses, 
Loving  the  mighty  and  monstrous  and  piling  up 

horror  on  horror  " 

"Hold,  for  mercy  I  *'  cried  Homer,  **  let  me 
catch  breath  for  a  moment. 

For  I  seem  to  be  falling,  falling  along  with  your 
Titans, 

Down  to  black  Tartarus  whirling  I  spin  in  a 
spiral  headforemost. 

Poet,  is  there  no  light  in  your  world,  no  beauti- 
ful order?  *'^ 

Curling  his  lip  to  a  scowl,  responded  the  singer 
of  Ascra: 


THE  SINGER  OF  ASCRA.  139 

"  I  cannot  say  that  I  like  your  Olympian  sun- 
shine, Homerus, 
All  of  your  deities  stand  too  clear  in  the  sweep 

of  my  eyesight, 
Cut  into  words  they  walk  as  if  they  were  moving 

to  marble, 
Gods  in  my  thought  should  break  over  bounds 

into  limitless  regions. 
Break  over  all  of  the  forms  of  fair  life  into  in- 
finite fancy. 
Give  me  the  view  far  away  o'er  the  deeps  of 

Oceanus  hoary, 
And  his  thousands  of  children  with  all  the  dim 

train  of  the  sea-gods, 
Breaking,  creating  their  shapes  with  every  new 

dash  of  the  wavelet. 
Riding  the   steeds  of  the   sea  and  leaping  from 

billow  to  billow. 
Homer,  I  come  to  pay  thee  a  visit  once  promised 

at  Ascra; 
And   I  have   heard   of  a  beautiful  maiden  now 

dwelling  in  Chios.'' 
**  Welcome    again,    O    friend,"     said    Homer; 

*'  some  wine  in  a  goblet, 
Speed  thee  Amyntas,  my  boy  —  some  Chian  wMne 

for  the  poet." 

But  the  musical  guest  in  response  made  a  face 
full  of  discord. 
For  in  spite  of  himself  he  longed  to  behold  the 
fair  daughter. 


140  IJOMEB  IN  CHIOS. 

Disappointed,  he  turned  once  more  to  the  tale  of 

his  terrors: 
'*  Dragons  I  love,  if  human,  and  forms  of  the 

sphinxes  and  griffons, 
Forms  commingled  of  man  and  of  beast,  which 

sprang  from  the  Orient. 
You,  O  Homer,  have  driven  my  monsters  away 

to  the  background. 
Far  in  the  background  of  Hellas  they  lie  under 

curse  of  your  spirit, 
Where  they  will  stay  by  your  spell,  I  fear,    in 

the  darkness  forever. 
—  No,  again  they  will  rise,'*  spake  the  poet  of 

Ascra  prophetic, 
**  Out  of  the  night  they  will  rise  and  bask  in  the 

sheen  of  Apollo, 
Far  in  the  future  I  see  them  step  to  the  light 

from  their  hiding, 
They  will  riot  around  in  the  world  as  in  times  of 

the  Titans, 
Storming  Olympus  again  in  the  might  of  their 

struggle  for  heaven. 
They  will  battle  with  Gods  on  the  earth  and  the 

air  and  the  ocean. 
Till   the   Underworld  sunless   will   rumble   and 

quake  in  its  terror.** 

Here  a  youth  stepped  forth,  he  had  recently 
come  from  the  Northland, 
Tall  Hesperion,   who  from   a  dream  had  been 
roused  by  the  story, 


THE   SINGE B   OF  ASCBA,  141 

Roused  by  the  mention  of  Giants,  the  dwellers  of 

mountain  and  iceberg, 
Calling  to  mind  his  own  far  country  in  landscape 

and  legend. 
Tims  he  spake  in  response  to  the  poet  of  Ascra 

foretelling : 
**  Truth  you  have  spoken,  I  know  it;  those  mon- 
sters are  living  and  thriving 
Just  at  this  moment  far  up  in  the  nebulous  tract 

of  the  Northland 
Where  they  fight  with  the  fire  and  sport  with  the 

frost  of  the  icefield  ; 
Mighty  and   massive   those  Giants  of  cold,  the 

Hyperboreans, 
Never  I  thought  I  would  find  them  here  in  the 

sunbeams  of  Hellas, 
Even  in  story  I  did  not  expect  to  be  told  of  their 

wonders, 
Though  they  be  sitting  in  Tartarus   sooty,  the 

cheerless,  the  hopeless. 
Tell  me  your    name,    O  stranger,  for  I  would 

carry  it  with  me. 
When  I  return  to  my  land  with  the  name  and  the 

song  of  great  Homer, 
Both  of  you  banded  together  shall  go  to  ray  home 

in  the  Northland.'' 

With  a  gleam  of  rude  joy  responded  the  singer 
of  Ascra, 
Fame  he  reproached  and   despised  and    yet  he 
longed  to  be  famous  : 


142  HOMER  IN  CHIOS, 

**  I   am    called   Hesiod,    younger  in    song   than 

Homer,  yet  older, 
Earliest  Gods  I  have  sung  and  the  latest  of  all  — - 

Prometheus, 
Friend  of  poor  lost  man,  and  the  sufferer,  too,  for 

his  goodness; 
Sufferer  God-born  he  lay  in  his  anguish  on  Cau- 
casus lonely. 
But  the  strange  spell  of  my  life !     I  cannot  get 

rid  of  the  woman ! 
On    me  has   rested   a  curse,  the  curse  of  that 

charmer  Pandora, 
Once  created  by  Zeus,  endowed  by  each  God  wi  h 

his  talent. 
Born  with  craft  in  her  heart,  then  sent  upon  man 

for  his  evil. 
Off  and  away  I  good  Homer,  I  whisper  the  hope 

of  my  journey ! 
Much  I  have  heard  in  my  land  of  a  girl  now  grown 

to  a  woman. 
Can  I  not  see,  perchance,  now  converse  with  the 

beautiful  maiden? 
Vain  is  my  visit  to-day  if  I  see  not  the  daughter 

of  Homer; 
More  than  Helen  she  is,  aye  more  than  the  gifted 

Pandora.** 

**  Here  comes  Amyntas,'*  said  Homer,  **  bear- 
ing the  fragrance  of  Chios  ; 
What  a  perfume  of  the  wine  as  he  steps  in  the 
gate  of  the  garden  I 


THE   SINGER   OF  ASCIiA.  143 

Well,  that  boy  is  a  flower  that  blooms  with  the 
scent  of  old  Bacchus ! 

I  can  trace  his  path  in  the  air  without  hear- 
ing his  footstep. 

Drink  now  a  cupful  of  tears  that  were  shed  on  the 
beautiful  island, 

Tears  of  the  wine-god  which  tell  not  the  sorrow 
but  joy  of  the  godhood." 

Hesiod  turned  up  the  cup,  and  drank  oflf  the 

vintage  of  Chios, 
Generous  vintage  of  Chios,  that  lightens  the  soul 

of  the  singer. 
And   that  cup  was   a  wonder,  with    figures    that 

danced  in  a'circle, 
Forms  of  maidens  and  youths   that  danced  in  a 

ring  round  the  wine-cup, 
Wrought  by  the  cunning  of  Chalcon  the  smith,  and 

given  to  Homer, 
When  in  his  youth  he  sang  for  the  prize  and  won 

in  the  contest, 
Won  the  fair  prize  in  a  contest  with  deep-toned 

Ariston  his  teacher. 
So  they  sipped  off  the  wine  from  their  beakers  a 

moment  in  silence, 
Hesiod,  Homer,  the  great  Greek  singers  were  sip- 
ping together 
There  in  Chios  the  wine  that  is  good  for  the  Gods 

and  us  mortals. 
Good  for  libations  to  Gods  and  a  slaking  of  thirst 

unto  mortals. 


144  HOMEB  IN  CHIOS, 

Soon  they  were  done,  for  they  loved,  not  the 
frenzy,  but  joy  of  the  wine-god. 

•*  Dearest     ray   daughter,    where     art  thou? 

Come  hither  and  lead  me,"  said  Homer. 
But  he  heard  no  response,  so  he  called  out  again  : 

Praxilla ! 
What  is  the  matter  ?  where  is  the  maiden  ?  Gone 

on  an  errand  ? 
No,  she  was  looking  just  then  in  a  dream   from 

a  nook  of  her  arbor, 
Whence  she  could  gaze  on    the  fair-haired,  blue- 
eyed  youth  of  the  Northland, 
Wondering    what  she  would  do  if  she  went  to 

the  folk  of  the  icefields. 
Of  a   sudden   she    woke    from  her  wonder  and 

sprang  to  her  father, 
Speaking  mid  blushes  :  *'I  was  not  gone,  behold, 

I  am  present." 
But   the  flashes  of  red  spake  louder  that  what 

she  had  spoken. 
Truer  than  words  in  telling  the  truth  of  the  heart 

that  is  hidden. 

Then  they  passed  from  the  house  for  a  stroll 
mid  the  trees  and  the  vineyard. 

All  together  they  went  —  the  youths,  the  guests 
and  the  maiden. 

Shady  the  roof  overhead  of  the  leaves  and  the 
twigs  and  the  tendrils. 


THE   SINGER   OF  ASCBA,  145 

Leaves  of  the  olive  with  silvery  sparkle  in  sun- 
beams of  Chios, 

Tendrils  of  grapevines  that  clasped  the  twigs 
in  tender  embraces, 

Hinting  of  love  in  a  bower  to  hearts  that  are 
young,  and  to  old  ones. 


Hesiod  saw  with  delight  the  beautiful  daughter 
of  Homer, 

Every  seam  of  his  face  was  illumed  with  the 
torches  of  Eros,  * 

Fled  are  the  monsters  aforetime,  ended  the  battle 
of  Titans, 

And  the  wormwood  of  words  is  turning  to  sweet- 
ness of  honey ; 

Glances  he  cast  on  the  maiden  and  coined  them 
to  lines  of  a  poet. 

Singer  of  Ascra,  thou  hast  forgotten  thy  tale 
of  Pandora ! 

Also  Typtodes  beheld  in  a  joy  the  daughter  of 

Homer, 
For  the  pedagogue  too  was  a  man,  though  dry  in 

his  learning. 
Dry  the  vast  heap  of  his  learning,  but  it  would 

make  a  great  bonfire. 
If  but  one  little  spark  would  snap  from  the  flamelet 

of  Eros, 
Fall  on  the  ponderous  pile  and  suddenly  set  it  to 

blazing. 

10 


146  HOMEB  IN  CHIOS. 

O  Typtodes,  pedagogue  Chian,  what  are  these 

flashes  I 
Thou  hast  forgotten  thy  letters,  forgotten  the 

symbols  Phoenician. 

So  they  walked  and  they  talked  till  they  came 

to  the  view  of  the  waters, 
Wondering  came  they  at  once  to  the  side  of  the 

sea  everlasting 
Rolling  its  waves  from  beyond  and  beyond,  far 

over  the  vision, 
Over  the  tremulous  line  where  heaven  and  earth 

run  together, 
Where  the  God  may  be  seen  as  he  comes  and  de- 
parts from  the  mortal. 
Nearest  the  billow  that  broke  on  the  beach  stood 

the  maiden  Praxilla, 
Just  behind    her   with  look   o'er  the   sea   stood 

youthful  Hesperion. 

All  of  them  grazed  at  the  waves,  and  thought- 
fully dropped  into  silence. 

Seeming  to  peep  far  over  the  bound  of  the  bend- 
ing horizon 

Into  the  realm  beyond  for  a  moment,  and  hear 
its  low  music, 

Feeling  a  gentle  attunement  of  soul  to  the  beat 
of  the  billows, 

Telling  the  pulse  of  the  world  that  is  coming,  the 
world  that  is  going. 


THE   SINGEB   OF  ASCBA.  147 

List  to  a  voice !  a  herald  is  hurrying  out  of  the 

city, 
Running  along  the  white  sand  of  the  margin  that 

gleamed  in  the  sunshine; 
<*  Hearken,"  he  cried,  **  I  announce  the  approach 

of  the  sovereign  woman, 
Poetess  come  from  the  Lesbian  isle  to  pay  hom- 
age to  Homer." 
**  What !  a  woman  poetic!"  broke  out  old  Hesiod 

crabbed, 
With  a  twinge  in  his  lips  as  if  tasting  his  words 

that  were  wormwood. 
With  a  whirl  of  his  fist  as  if  fighting  the  Gods 

like  a  Titan : 
«'  What  new  evil  is  born  to  the  suffering  race  of  us 

mortals ! 
This  last  woman,  methinks,  is  worse,  far  worse 

than  the  first  one, 
With  the  gift  of  her  verses  she  comes,  far  worse 

than  Pandora." 

*' Hater  of  woman!"  quickly  responded  the 
daughter  of  Homer, 

Why  are  your  Muses  women,  your  own  Heli- 
conian Muses  ? 

Long  I  have  known  of  you  here,  I  have  heard 
that  tale  of  Pandora, 

Shameless!  you  have  in  that  tale  besmirched  the 
mother  that  bore  you." 


148  HOMEB  IN  CHIOS. 

Off  slipped  the  poet  of  Ascra  through  a  lone 
path  by  the  sea-shore, 

Thinking  to  catch  some  vessel  awaiting  the  breezes 
for  Hellas, 

Eager  to  quit  the  sunshine  of  Chios  for  heavy 
Boeotia, 

Leaving  the  Gods  of  Olympus,  to  dwell  once  more 
with  the  Titans. 

Surly  he  sauntered  along  by  himself  till  he 
passed  out  of  vision, 

Hapless  poet  of  Ascra,  dismissed  by  the  daugh- 
ter of  Homer. 

Meanwhile  the   rest  of  the  people  went  back 

from  the  sea  to  the  garden. 
Where  they  sat  down  on  the  stones  which  were 

seats  for  the  guests  in  a  circle, 
Waiting  to  hear  the  first  notes  of  the  beautiful 

songstress  of  Lesbos, 
And  with  a  festival  high  and  a  hymn  to  receive 

her  with  honor. 


vin. 


The  Songstress  of  Lesbos. 


(149)  i 


ARGUMENT. 

The  person  heralded  is  Sappho^  a  poetess  of  the 
island  of  Lesbos^  and  ancestress  of  the  later  more  fa- 
mous ISappho.  She  had  caught  from  Homer  the  spirit 
of  song  in  her  youth,  and  now  she  comes  to  tell  him  her 
gratitude  for  what  he  had  done.  She  thinks  that  Homer, 
through  his  story  of  Helen ,  had  helped  to  save  all  women 
of  Greece,  herself  included,  from  the  fate  of  Helen.  She 
crowns  Homer  with  a  garland  for  his  other  pictures  of 
noble  women,  those  found  in  the  Odyssey.  At  this  point 
the  daughter  of  Homer  steps  forward  and  asks  Sappho 
concerning  a  secret.  Hesperian,  who  has  listened  to  the 
songstress  and  has  heard  her  songs  before,  comes  for- 
ward and  asks  a  similar  question.  The  res^dt  is,  the 
two  lovers  are  brought  together  through  Sappho,  the 
poetess  of  love.  But  they  are  suddetdy  separated  by  the 
warning  sound  of  a  trumpet. 


(1505 


Who    could  it  be  that  had   come    from  the 

neighboring  island  of  Lesbos, 
Lovely  island  of  love,  and  the  home  of  the  lyre 

of  Hellas? 
It  was  Sappho,  beautiful  Sappho,  poetess  tender, 
Singing  ancestress  of  many  a  Sappho  still  greater 

than  she  was, 
Sister  own  of  the  Muses,  the  sister  too  of  the 

Graces, 
Breathing  the  heart  of  her  sex  into  strains  of  the 

sweetest  of  music. 
Bearing  the   beautiful  name  to  be  borne  by  her 

children  hereafter, 
Sappho,  melodious  Sappho,  first    name   of  the 

songstress  of  Hellas. 

(151) 


152  HOMER  IN  CHIOS. 

Many    a    Lesbian    woman    she    gave   of  her 

musical  dower, 
Tunefully  sharing  the  gift  of  her  song  to  the  soul 

that  might  need  it, 
All  of  them   singing  of  love  with   the  joy,  the 

triumph,  the  sorrow. 
Tasting  the  magical  drop  which  wings  with  a  word 

the  sweet  senses  — 
Lesbian   bees  that  lit  on   each   beautiful  flower 

of  nature, 
Busily  culling  in  song  the   bitter-sweet  honey  of 

passion. 
Sappho   already  had  sung  for  the  prize  in  a 

contest  with  Homer, 
Years  agone  that  was,  when  she  was  the  bloom 

of  a  morning. 
But  when  he  was  a  noonday  turning  and  looking 

to  sundown. 
Both  of  them  sang  before  judges  —  the  prize  was 

a  new-made  tripod. 
Fashioned    to   life  by   Chalcon  with   dexterous 

strokes  of  the  hammer. 
That  it  seemed  ready  to  step  and  to  walk  while 

standing  forever. 
High  and   mighty   the  judges  taken  from  lords 

of  the  islands, 
And  from   rulers  of  cities  on  mainland,  all  of 

them  greybeards ; 
Bigid  and  just  they  were  deemed  in  settling  dis- 
putes of  the  people, 


THE  SONGSTBESS  OF  LESBOS.  153 

Rigid  and  just  were  the  judges,  and  still  she  had 

won  before  singing. 
See  but  the  gleam  of  her  eye,  no  furrow  of  frost 

can  resist  it ! 
Every  heart  she  had  won  by  her  look,  and  away 

went  the  tripod; 
She  herself  was  the  song  that  sang  more  sweetly 

than  Homer, 
Love  and  beauty  were  hers  while  singing  of  love 

and  of  beauty, 
She  was  the  prize  herself,  the  prize  of  the  Gods 

to  the  winner. 
No  true  Greek  could  ever  behold  her,  not  hoping 

possession. 
So  the  tripod  she  easily  won  from  the  first  of 

the  poets. 
By  the  decree  of  the  judges,  whose  law  she  took 

in  her  triumph, 
Took  too  the  hearts   of  the  greybeards  along, 

and  they  could  not  help  it; 
Homer    himself  in   their   place   had   not   given 

another  decision. 
Homer  had  turned  against  Homer,  had  he  been 

one  of  the  judges. 


But  to-day  she  harbored  no  thought  to  tell  of 
that  triumph, 
Rather  ashamed  she  was,  for  she  knew  the  power 
that  gave  it. 


154  HOMER  IN  CHIOS.  \ 

Years  had  brought  to  her  life  the  golden  return  \ 

of  their  harvest,  i 

Still  not  chilling  the  warmth  and  the  glow  of  the  j 

Lesbian  summer.  j 

Not  too  young  in  her  folly,  not  too  old  in  her  \ 

wisdom,  j 

Almost  repentant  her   spirit  looked  out  on  the  ; 

world  from  its  windows,  ! 

Casting  its  glances   adown   as   if  it  had  a  con- 
fession. \ 

Stately  she  moved,  yet  modest,  into  the  presence  \ 

of  Homer;  \ 

Courteous  welcome  he  gave  to   the   songstress, 

when  she  began  speaking,  \ 

Not  in  her  own  soft  cadence,  but  tuned  to  the 

sweep  of  his  measures:  \ 

! 

<*Thee,  O  fatherly  singer,  I  come  to  visit  in  i 

Chios,  j 

Chios,  thy  beautiful  island,  fair  sister  it  is  to  my  j 

Lesbos ; 
I  would  behold  thee  once  more  in  the  living  form 

of  thy  features,  \ 

Ere  thou  pass  to  Elysian  fields,  last  home  of  the  | 

poets,  \ 

Who  shall  dwell  as  spirits  beyond  in  the  house  of  | 

their  genius,  • 

House  of  high  fantasy  built,  material  stronger  \ 

than  granite. 


THE  SONGSTBESS  OF  LESBOS.  155 

Holding  eternal  the  echo  of  musical  strains  of  the 
singer. 

There  among  thine  own  Heroes,  there  abiding 
forever, 

Thou  the  Hero  shalt  be  thyself  —  in  the  deed  the 
first  Hero  ; 

For  of  all  thy  great  people  of  song,  thou  sing- 
ing art  greatest, 

Singing  high  actions  of  men  thine  action  itself  is 
the  highest. 

There  I  too,  a  poet  mid  happy  Elysian  meadows, 

Hope  in  the  sound  of  thy  song  with  thee  to  be 
living  immortal. 

But  to-day  I  have  come  once  more  in  the  sun- 
shine to  listen, 

I  would  hear  thee  again  this  side  of  the  pitiless 
earth-stream. 

And  would  speak  thee  a  word  —  not  to  thee  but 
to  me  it  is  needful, 

Bringing  thy  soul  nearer  mine  —  the  word  of 
sweet  recognition." 

**  Aye,  it  is  sweet,  that  word,"  interrupted  the 

poet  good-humored, 
*'Even  to   age   it  is  sweet,  for  myself  I  do  not 

deny  it ; 
More  I  would  hear  of  thy  strain,  so  deftly  thou 

turnest  thy  measures." 

Seeing  herself  reflected  in  Homer,  the  song- 
stress continued : 


156  HOMER  IN  CHIOS. 

'<  Long  ago  I  first  heard  thee  attune  the  high  lay 

in  my  Lesbos, 
I  was  a  girl  in  my  home,  and   thou  wert  a  wan- 
dering minstrel. 
Who  went  singing  through  Hellas  the  wrath  of 

the  Hero  Achilles, 
Singing  the  fateful,  dolorous  tale  of  the  beautiful 

woman. 
Wandering,  singing,  and   tuning  thy  song  to  the 

hearts  of  the  Hellenes. 
Helpful  thou  spakest  to  me  in  the  bloom  and  the 

peril  of  girlhood. 
Mighty  thy  voice  in   my  heart  just  then  in  the 

struggle  of  woman  ; 
At  thy  command  my  soul  was  set  free  and  broke 

forth  into  measures. 
Irresistible  measures  of  longing  in  Lesbian  music. 
Secretly  sang  I  my  earliest  notes  to  a  circle  of 

maidens, 
Who  would  listen  and  love  along  with  the  tender 

vibrations, 
Singino:  the  strains  of  the  song  and  touching  the 

DO  O  P 

strings  of  the  cithern. 
That  was  after  I  heard  thee  hymning  the  story  of 

Helen, 
How  she  was  blmded  and   sank   in  the  spell  of 

sweet  Aphrodite, 
Though  the  Goddess  she  fought  and  rated  with 

heavy  reproaches ; 


THE  SONGSTRESS  OF  LESBOS.  157 

How  by  Paris  of  Tioy  she  then  was  led  from  her 

husband, 
Going,    unwilling   to   go,    and   yielding    though 

always  refusing, 
Driving  the  Trojan  away,  yet  drawing  him  back 

by  denial. 
No  was  the  word   of  her   tongue,    but  Yes  the 

response  of  her  action/' 

Here  she  stopped  for  a   moment  and  looked 

abashed  at  her  daring. 
Thought  unspoken  when  born  into  speech  has  in 

it  a  demon. 
Who  oft  leaps  from  the  sound  of   the  word  and 

frightens  the  speaker. 
Till  the  courage  returns  to  speak  out  the  heart 

of  the  matter. 
Poetess  was  the  Lesbian,  having  the  right  to  her 

color, 
Having  the  duty  to  utter  the  truth  of  herself  in 

her  singing; 
Warm  were  the  tones  and  strong  were  the  tints 

of  the  thoughts  that  she  painted  ;     . 
Though   her  words  seemed   growing  forbidden, 

courageous  began  she: 
"Must  I  confess  it?  Helen  I  felt   in  myself   at 

that  moment ! 
All  of  the  bliss  and  the  blight  of  her  love  swept 

over  my  heart  strings. 


158  HOMER  IN  CHIOS. 

Touching  them  lightly  at  first,  then  smiting  them 

harder  and  harder, 
As  if  I  were  a   lyre  by  fingers  of   Fates   to  be 

played  on, 
Thrilling  to  music  the  ebb  and  the  flow  of   the 

ocean  within  me, 
Making  the  billowy  passion   sing   to  a  measure 

responsive  ! 
Willing  unwilling,  fated  yet  free,  to  myself  but 

a  battle ! 
Yes,  I  confess,  the  Goddess  I  felt,  the  Goddess 

resistless. 
Driving  me  forward  to  do  as   did  the  beautiful 

woman, 
Whispering  dulcet  commands  in  words  of  divin- 
ity's power. 
Yet  Aphrodite  but  spoke  to  what  was  within  me 

already, 
Willing,  unwilling,  fated  yet  free  —  ye  Gods,  how 

she  smote  me  I 
Till  through  the  cleft   of  my  heart  1  could  see 

down,  down  to  its  bottom  ! 
With  the  prize  of  the  fairest,  the  penalty  too  has 

been  given, 
With  the  beautiful  women  is  chained  the  spite  of 

a  Fury, 
Who  doth  secretly  lurk  in  the  gift  of  the  Gods  to 

the  mortal. 
But  I  stand  not  alone,  for  all  I  now  stand  in  thy 

presence : 


THE  SONQSTBESS  OF  LESBOS.  lo9 

Every  wife  in  Lesbos,  in  Chios,  in  all  the  Greek 

islands. 
And  on   mainland  too,  through  Hellas,  through 

midland  of  Argos, 
Far  in  the  isles  of  the  West  and  over  the  sea  to 

the  sundown. 
Has  that  danger  of  Helen,  the  lapse  of  the  soul 

in  its  loving. 
With  the  vengeance  that  follows  the  joy  and  the 

glory  of  beauty. 
In  thy  story  a  witness  I  was  of  all  that  I  might 

be, 
Saw  the  dread  ghost  of  myself  and  fled  from  the 

horrible  specter ! 
Homer,  my  father,  thou  hast  saved  me  from  be- 
ing a  Helen, 
In  thy  song  thou  hast  suffered  and  saved  all  men 

and  all  women 
Winning  thy  soul  to  themselves  in  its  story  of 

trial  and  rescue. 
I  had  been  taken  to  Troy,  if  thy  word  had  never 

been  spoken. 
All  the  daughters  of  Greece   thou  hast  rescued 

from  fleeing  with  Paris, 
Though  his  city  has  fallen,  again  he  had  come  to 

Achaea, 
Were  it  not  that  thy  song  keeps  the  warning  alive 

and  the  judgment. 
Troy  still   stands   in  the  world   and  holds  in  its 

citadel  Helen, 


160  HOMER  IN  CHIOS. 

Only   in   song,  thy  song,  is   it   taken  forever,  O 
Homer." 


There  she  stopped  on  the  height  of  her  thought, 
the  Lesbian  songstress, 

Whence   she   could   see  far   over  the  sky-bound 
limit  of  Hellas; 

Soon   in   sweet  low   tones   responded   the   poet 
prophetic : 
**  Gracious  words  thou  hast  spoken  and  dear  to 
me,  beautiful  woman; 

Singing  the  peril  of  beauty  in  soft,  warm  words 
of  thy  measures; 

Muse  among  Muses  the  tenth  for  thy  strain  hence- 
forth I  shall  name  thee, 

Aye,  for   thy  love   the   tenth   Muse  I  shall  name 
thee  to  nations  hereafter. 

Who  thy  honor  will  sing  beyond  the  far  streams 
of  the  Ocean, 

First  of  the  women  of  Hellas  to  build  the  melo- 
dious poem. 

Chastely  chanting  thy  lay  to  the  wives  and  maid- 
ens of  Lesbos. 

Thou  wilt  be  followed  by  thousands  of  songsters 
along  down  the  ages, 

Thine  is  the  musical  prelude  of  forests  of  night- 
ingales singing. 

Women   preserve   the   story  and   song  as   they 
nourish  their  infants, 


THE  SONGSTRESS  OF  LESBOS.  161 

Who  must  be  reared  on  the  voice  as  well  as  the 

milk  of  the  mother; 
Nature  makes  her  sing,  she   must  die  or  sing  to 

her  baby ; 
Motherly  harmony  is  her  first  gift  to  her  child, 

and  the  greatest. 
What  a  world  T  see  rising  before  me,  the  world 

of  the  woman  ! 
Beautiful  Helen  again  shall  be  sung,  aye,  more, 

she  shall  sing  too. 
Taking  herself   Troy   town,  not   conquered  but 

conquering  Paris; 
She   shall  he  the  new  Hero  Achilles,  in  action 

heroic, 
Gods  I  as  I  see  I  must  speak !  she  also  shall  be 

the  new  Homer." 

Down  fell   the  word   like   a  blow,  surprising 

even  the  speaker, 
Who   by  the  spur  prophetic  was  driven  beyond 

his  own  knowledge  ; 
But   on   the   spot   she  snatched  up  the  talk,  that 

Lesbian  songstress. 
For    she   still  had  a  weight  on  her  heart  to  be 

lifted  by  speaking : 
**How   we   look   at  ourselves  in  thy  tale  of  the 

beautiful  woman ! 
Our  warm  heart  thou  hast  felt,  its  ready  response 

and  the  peril. 

11 


162  HOMEB  IN  CHIOS, 

All  our  circle  is  drawn,  the  trial,  the  fall  and  the   j 

i 
sorrow, 

Then   the   return   of  the  soul,  the  rise  and  the  \ 

grand  restoration ;  \ 

Helen  estranged  is  restored  to  her  own,  restored  i 

to  herself  too.  \ 

In  her  marvelous  tale  I  can  see  the  past  and  the  \ 

future,  i 

All  the  life  of  our  people  unfold  to  the   story  ] 

of  Hellas. 

But  still  more  than  Hellas  I  watch  in  the  lines  of  ] 

her  image  :  —  J 

This  whole   round   of  existence   on   earth,  hard  | 

destiny  human, 

With  the  rise  and  the  drop  in  the  struggle  of  good  i 

and  of  evil,  ; 

Now  on  the  up  and  now  on  the  down  of  the  life-  j 

stroke  eternal,  \ 

Measuring  cycles  of  pain  and  of  gain  to  the  beat  \ 

of  the  master.'*  i 

i 
Here  she   stopped  for  a  moment,  lost   in  the    j 

reach  of  her  thinking,  j 
Which  ran  over  the  bounds  of  her  speech  in  the 

stress  of  her  spirit; 

Soon  again   she  came  back  to  herself  and  spoke  ; 

Greek  unto  Homer :  j 

"Not  alone  the  rise  from  the  fall,  thy  beautiful  \ 

Helen,  | 

i 
\ 
I 

■■A 


THE  SONQSTUESS  OF  LESBOS.  163 

But   the  woman   unfallen   is  also  thy  gift  to  us 

womeu  — 
She  who  never  could  lapse  from  herself  in  trial 

the  sorest. 
Now  let  me  crown  thy  brow  with  this  wreath  for 

Penelope  faithful, 
For  Arete,  the  mother,  who    dwells  in  the  heart 

of  her  household, 
For  Nausicaa  too,  the   maid   of  all  maidens  for- 
ever. 
Take  this  gift  from  thy  children,  thou   art   the 

father  of  Hellas ! 
Which  has  been  born  to  thy  song  and  trained  to 

the  step  of  thy  music, 
Which  will  go  singing  thy  strains  down  Time,  in 

joy  and  in  sorrow. 
With  the  echo  repeating  itself  in  all  nations,  O 

Homer." 

Thus  spake  Sappho,  the  soft-speaking  Sappho, 

sweet  Lesbian  songstress, 
Graceful  she  stepped,  and  loving  she  laid  on  his 

temples  the  garland. 
Plucked  by  her  hand  and  wove  to  a  crown  of  the 

leaves  of  the  laurel. 
Echoing  shouts  of  approval  rang  back  from  the 

hills  and  the  sea-shore. 
Even  the  wavelets,  trying  to  walk,  had  come  up 

to  the  bank-side. 


1C4  HOMER  IN  CHIOS. 

Trying  to  talk  had  murmured  afar  their  billowy 
answer. 

Sweetly  the  rhythm  she  spoke,  her  spirit  had 
caught  it  from  Homer, 

And  the  heroic  hexameter  yielded  to  lips  of  a 
woman, 

Tamed  by  her  gentle  caress  into  lines  of  mel- 
lifluous movement. 

Though  it  was  used  to  the  clangor  and  clash  of 
the  onset  of  battle. 

Now  the  poet  has  heard  in  tenderest  tones  of  the 
songstress. 

Touched  with  Lesbian  tints,  the  tune  of  his  own 
mighty  measure 

Softened  quite  to  the  whisper  of  love  in  its  deli- 
cate cadence, 

Sung  in  praise  of  himself  for  singing  the  praises 
of  woman. 

Showing  her  highest  worth,  not  sparing  her  blame- 
ful in  error. 

Fairest  reward  of  the  bard,  when  he  harks  to  the 
heart  of  his  verses 

Beating  out  of  a  bosom  that  throbs  in  a  joy  to  his 
music. 

Flowing  from  lips  that  he  loves,  like  a  soft  suc- 
cession of  kisses. 

But  behold !  another  fair  woman  steps  up  to 
the  front-line, 


THE  SONGSTRESS  OF  LESBOS.  165 

Forward   she  moves  to   that  presence,  it  is  the 

daughter  of   Homer, 
Who  in  a  gleam   of  her   sunshine  embraces  the 

songstress  of  Lesbos, 
And  then  speaks  in  low  tones  what  her  looks  al- 
ready are  telling: 
"  Thou  hast  uttered  the  word  of  my  heart  to  thy 

music,  O  Sappho, 
Word  which  often  has  beaten  the  wall  of  my  lips 

for  delivrance. 
Always  in  vain,  for  left   to  myself   I  never  can 

say  it ; 
But  in  the  warmth  of  thy  speech   I  can  feel  the 

hot  beat  of  my  bosom. 
And  that   struggle  of  thine   and  of  Helen's  has 

sung  me  my  battle. 
Deep  is  the  joy  of   my  soul,  and  yet  I  have  with 

it  a  trembling, 
I  have   given   myself  all    away,  and  yet  I  must 

keep  me, 
Sweet  is  every  moment    of  life,    and   yet  it  is 

bitter. 
What  is  this   riddle  of  pleasure  in  pain  and  of 

pain  in  pleasure? 
Would  I  might  fly  from  myself,  and  yet  to  my- 
self I  would  fly  then. 
Tell  me  the  great  surrender  which  will  restore  me 

my  freedom, 
Speak  it  again,  the  magical  word,  the  word  of  my 

weal  now, 


166  HOMEB  IX  CHIOS. 

Overinaking  me  wholly  in  hope  of  the  time  of 

my  ransom. 
I  would  bathe  in  the  stream  of  thy  song  as  in 

waters  of  healing, 
At  thy  voice  my  full  heart  which  before  had  been 

closed,  is  open. 
Like  the  flower  which  bursts  at  the  breath  of  the 

spring  from  its  bud-coat, 
Still  unwilling  to  show  at  first  what  is  hid  in  its 

bosom.'' 


What  does  this  mystery  mean  which  lurks  in 
the  speech  of  the  maiden? 

Not  quite  clear  to  herself  is  the  meaning  of  what 
she  has  uttered ; 

Nearer  the  Lesbian  songstress  she  drew,  confid- 
ing in  glances. 

Then  in  a  whisper  she  spake,  the  beautiful  daugh- 
ter of  Homer, 

Clinging  to  Sappho,  soft-speaking  Sappho,  the 
helper  of  love-pain: 

**  Tell  me  the  story  once  more  thou  hast  told  so 
often  already, 

I  can  hear  it  again  from  thy  lips  and  never  grow 
weary, 

I  would  hearken  thy  heart  and  live  in  the  strains 
of  its  music; 

Sappho,  O  Sappho,  what  is  this  love  of  the  youth 
and  the  maiden, 


THE   SONGSTUESS  OF  LESBOS.-  167 

Which  thou  singest    in  hundreds  of  songs  to  the 
sonorous  cithern  ?  ' ' 

Scarce  had  ended  the  speech  when  both  were 

aware  of  another 
Who  had  entered  their   thought    and    stood  by 

himself  in  their  presence; 
Both  looked  hastily  up,  it  was    the    fair   youth 

of  the  Northland 
Ready  to    speak,    and  his  glances  held  the  two 

women  asunder, 
Since  the  one  of  them  blushed,  and    the    other 

drew  back  in  amazement; 
Warm    was   his   accent,    though    neither    Ionic, 

^olic,  nor  Doric; 
Well  he  could  say  what  he   wanted  and   spake 

to  the  Lesbian  songstress: 
*»  Thou  hast  uttered  the  word  of  my  heart  to  thy 

music,  O  Sappho; 
I  a  stranger  am  here  from  afar,  from  the  realm 

of  the  fiost-gods. 
Thy  warm  breath  I  have  felt  as  it  wafted  in  words 

from  thy  poems. 
All  the  winter  within   me  has  melted,  and  I  am 

the  summer. 
Tender  summer  of  Hellas  attuned  to  the  lyre  of 

Lesbos. 
All  the  ice  of  the  North  to-day  thou  hast  thawed 

from  my  bosom. 


168  HOMEB  IN  CHIOS. 

As  thou  toldest  thy  tale  in  the  tale  of  the  beauti-    'l 

ful  woman; 
Helen  I   was  myself,   and  I  sank   in   the    spell 

of  her  passion, 
But   I  was  also  her  spouse,   to   Troy    I    would 

march  for  my  Helen; 
Aye,  the  Greek  I  must  win,  or  myself  I  shall 

lose  forever/' 

Here  he  stopped  for  a  sigh,   then  passed  to 

an  undertone  softly : 
"What  is  this  fearful  joy,   and   yet   an  ag(  ny 

with  it 
Which  allows  no  rest  in  the   pain  that  is  born 

of  its  pleasure? 
Sweet  is  every  moment  of  life,  and  yet  it  is  bit- 
ter; 
I  had  given  myself  all  away,  before  I  had  known 

it; 
Tell    me   the  cause  of  this  hungering  lingering 

longing  for  something  — 
Sappho,  O  Sappho,  what  is  this  love  of  the  youth 

and  maiden, 
Which  thou  singest  in  hundreds  of  songs  to  the 

sonorous  cithern?  *' 

Smiling  she  touched  the  amorous  chords  with 
the  tip  of  her  finger. 
Softly   preluding    the  tones  which    turned   into 
words  in  her  answer : 


THE  SONQSTBESS  OF  LESBOS.  169 

**  Both  of  you  have  the  same  pain,  and  both   of 

you  have  the  same  pleasure. 
Both  of  you  sing  the  one  song  which  runs  to   the 

very  same  ending  ; 
Even  the  words  of  your  lips  I  notice  are  pairing 

together, 
Yes,  young  people,  I  think  I  can  tell  you  concern- 
ing this  matter, 
Old  is  the  tale  to  the  old,  yet  ever  is  new  to  the 

youthful. 
But  to  the  poet  it  never  can  wear  off  the  gleam 

of  its  freshness. 
Much  in  myself  I  have  studied  the  cause  and  the 

cure  of  this  trouble ; 
What  in   longing  is   sighing   asunder,   the   word 

brings  together, 
Hear  me,  then,  both  of  yon,  daughter  of  Homer 

and  son  of  the  Northland  : 
Two  are    still  twain  and  in  pain,  who  were  born 

to  be  one  and  one  only. 
Give  me  two  hands — I  shall  join  them  to  one  in 

mine  own  at  a  heart-beat." 

Sappho  set  down  her  sonorous  shell,  to  the  pair 

she  drew  nearer, 
Till  between  them  she  stood  and  secretly  reached 

out  on  both  sides. 
Took  two  hands  in  her  own  and  laid  them  willing 

together, 


170  HOMEB  IN  CHIOS. 

^hich  of  themselves,  with  n  grip  like  Fate,  were 
clasped  in  a  promise. 

While  the  eyes  at  each  other  shot  fiery  ratifica- 
tion. 

Meantime  the  songstress  was  chanting  a  lay  of 
the  doings  of  Eros, 

Singing  for  others  she  sang  to  relieve  her  own 
heart  of  its  travail. 

For  the  old  wound,  broken  open,  could  only  be 
stanched  by  the  love-song. 

Hark!  the  sound  of  a  trumpet  rolls  over  the 

hills  in  the  distance  ! 
What  can  it  mean,  interrupting  this  moment  of 

y^y  hy  a  startle? 
There !  once  more  it  is  rolling,  it  sends  on  its 

waves  a  light  shudder. 
Each  let  go  the  firm  grip  of  the  hand  in  the  shock 

of  the  warning. 

But  the  daughter  has  gone  and  whispered  aside 
to  her  father ; 

What  did  she  say  to  him  there  as  she  leaned  to 
his  ear  with  her  blushes? 

Joyful  he  was  at  the  word  and  louder  he  spoke 
than  a  whisper : 

**  Happy  1  am  —  I  have  it  foreseen  —  let  me 
pledge  you  together ; 

Sorrowful  too  —  ye  both  have  to  leave  me  be- 
hind—  leave  Hellas; 


THE  SONGSTRESS  OF  LESBOS.  171 

Still  I  feel  you  will  take  me  along  to  the  land  of 

the  future, 
Aye,  you  will  take  our  Hellas  along  and  preserve 

it  forever.'* 

Louder,  nearer,  sterner,  resounded  the  blast  of 

the  trumpet, 
Bearing  command  it  seemed  and  bidding  to  wait 

for  the  message  ; 
Still  no  person  appeared,  but  a  ruler  was  surely 

behind  it. 
For  authority  spoke   unworded  in  tones  of  the 

trumpet. 
Strangely  attuned  to  the  roll  of  the  thunder,  the 

voice  of  the  Heavens. 

In  response  to  the  note  of  forewarning  spake 

Homer  prophetic: 
*'  Nay,  not  yet,  not  yet  —  the  tie  is  not  yet  to  be 

fastened. 
First  this  flame  must  be  curbed  and   subdued  to 

the  oracle  coming. 
Else  it  will  burn  down  the  world,  like  Troy,  in  a 

grand  conflagration ; 
No  more  Helens  —  one   Helen  is  surely  enough 

for  all  ages — 
Bravely  renounce  the  sweet  thought,  and  prove 

yourselves  worthy,  renouncing; 
Bravely  renounce  and  renounce  till  the  law  hath 

declared  its  fulfillment.'* 


172  IIOMEJU  m  CHIOS. 

Louder  responded  to  Homer  the  blast    of  the 

ominous  trumpet, 
Louder,  nearer  it  rolled   and  mingled  its  sound 

with  his  sentence. 
As  if  giving  the   strength  of  its  stroke  to  the 

words  of  the  poet, 
Who  still  added  his  warning  to  souls  that  might 

be  impatient: 
**  Something  else   is  announced,  the  best    is  to 

wait  for  the  message ; 
It  is  near  —  the  tramp  can  be  heard  —  now  wait 

for  the  message.** 


IX. 


The   Psalmist  of  Israel. 


(173) 


ARGUMENT. 

David,  King  of  Israel,  comes  to  visit  Homer,  having 
heard  the  songs  of  the  Greek  poet  sung  by  Mesander,  born 
in  Cyprus,  a  Hellene  and  a  representative  of  his  race, 
the  Hellenes  (^pronounced  as  two  syllables)  among  Semi- 
tic peoples  —  Phoenicians  and  Hebrews.  The  ttvo  gn  at 
poets  sing  for  each  other,  and  in  their  so7igs  they  give 
the  Greek  and  the  Hebrew  views  of  the  world.  The  po- 
ems of  Homer  and  the  psalms  of  David  have  just  been 
written  in  the  new  alphabet  of  Phoenician  letters;  Typ- 
todes  and  Mesander  have  copies  of  the  two  works. 
David  and  Homer  sing  several  times,  each  recognizes 
the  greatness  and  worth  of  the  other.  They  become  warm 
friends,  as  from  CJiios  they  look  out  upon  the  future  to 
the  westward.  Tlesperion  and  Praxilla  are  betrothed, 
and  King  David  stays  to  take  part  in  celebrating  the 
marriage  on  the  morrow. 


(174) 


Suddenly  after  the  sound  of  the  trumpet  that 

rolled  from  the  mountain 
Followed  a  wave   of   deep  voices  of  song  that 

swayed  to  the  sea-swell, 
Choirinoj  in  tune  to  the  strings  of  the  harp  and 

the  tones  of  the  timbrel, 
Mid  the  clash  of  the  cymbals  and  drum,  and  the 

clangor  of  cornets. 
Loudly  preluding  new  strains  to  be  joined  to  the 

music  of  Hellas, 
First   to-day,  where   rises  melodious   Chios    in 

billows, 
Chios,  the  beautiful  island,  whose  eye  is  the  gar- 
den of  Homer. 
Slowly  a  caravan  wound  through  sinuous  turns 

of  the  mountain, 

(175) 


176  UOMEB  IN  CHIOS.  \ 

Shone  as  it  rolled  into  vision    out  of  the  azure    f 

horizon ;  m 

Over  the  hilltops  it  heaved,  it  seemed  to  be  hung 

from  the  heavens ! 
Gaily  it  glistened  afar  with  the  gleam  of  its  gold 

and  its  purple ; 
Precious  stones  of  the  East,  the  onyx,  the  opal, 

the  diamond. 
Peeped  with  a  thousand  eyes  from  the  front  of 

the  column  advancing, 
Peeped  and  sparkled  and  shot  in  a  dance  with  the 

sunbeams  of  Chios. 

*<  What  high  pomp  of  a  monarch   is  that  and 

where  is  he  going?  " 
Each  one  asked  of  his  neighbor,  who  gave  no  re- 
sponse to  the  question. 
For  he  knew  nothing  to  say,  but  stood  and  gazed 

in  his  wonder. 
Statelier  moved  the  procession  while  nearer    it 

came,  still  nearer, 
Till  it  had  reached  to  the  door  where  inside  was 

sitting  Homerus, 
Sitting  not  far  from  the  hearth  by  the  altar  he 

made  for  the  Muses, 
With  his  soul  in  a  song  he  sat  there  and  heard 

what  was  coming. 

Royally  rode   forth  a   man,    dismounted   and 
stood  at  the  entrance, 


THE  PSALMIST  OF  ISRAEL.  177 

All  the  radiant  train  of  his  followers  with  him 
dismounted ; 

What  a  spangle  of  gems  and  twinkle  of  jewels 
like  starlight  I 

Dark  was  the  eye  and  crispy  the  hair  and  brown 
the  complexion, 

Strong  was  the  curve  of  the  nose  of  the  King, 
like  the  beak  of  an  eagle, 

As  it  darts  from  its  fastness  of  rock  on  the  cow- 
ering rabbit. 

Yet  how  soft  lay  his  lip  underneath  the  fierce 
hook  of  the  nostrils 

As  if  nought  but  compassion  he  knew,  and  could 
utter  love  only ! 

Merciful  downward  to  earth  and  prayerful  up- 
ward to  heaven 

Ran  his  glances,  while  under  them  glowed  the  Hre 
of  his  daring. 

In  a  lofty  obeisance  he  raised  up  finger  to  fore- 
head. 

Jeweled  lightnings  leaped  from  his  hand  to  the 
eyes  of  beholders, 

Making  them  blink  in  the  flash,  and  answer  the 
sport  of  the  sparkles. 

Then  he  murmured  low  tones  of  a  somethingr  in 
syllables  foreign. 

To  the  man  who  stood  at  his  side,  and  who 
seemed  to  be  waiting, 

Eager  to  let  the  fountain  of  speech  gush  up  to 
the  sunlight. 

12 


178  HOMEB  IN  CHIOS, 

That  was  a  different  man  from  the  rest  of  the 

men  of  the  Monarch; 
Not  the  same  turn  of  the  features  he  had,  and  not 

the  same  stature ; 
He  was  named  Mesander — the  versatile,  clear- 
toned  Mesander, 
Knower  of  speech,  reconciler  of  men,  interpreter 

famous, 
He  was  the  tongue  of  the  King  who  bade  him  tell 

of  the  journey. 
Hark!  he  is  speaking,  now  list  to  his  voice!  his 

words  are  Hellenic ! 
Thus  he  spoke  in  the  rhythm  and  speech  familiar 

to  Homer: 

<*  Hail  to  thee,  poet,  thou  song  of  the  West, 

and  also  its  prophet ! 
Humbly  we  pray  thee  to  give  us  to-day  a  glimpse 

of  thy  treasures. 
And  of  our  own  we  gladly  shall  grant  what  we 

can  in  requital. 
This  high  Monarch  has  heard  thy  strains  in  the 

home  of  his  people. 
Over   the  roar   of  the  seas,  beyond   Phoenician 

Sidon, 
Where  dwells  Israel's  seed  in  the  holy  land  of 

Judea. 
In  his  palace  he  listened  with  pain  to  the  sorrows 

of  Priam, 
Deeply  forefeeling  in  Troy  and  its  fall  the  fate 

of  his  city, 


THE  PSALMIST  OF  ISBAEL.  179 

Sacred  Jerusalem,  set  on  a  hill  by  good  Abraham's 

children. 
Also  he  followed   in  hope   the   devious  path  of 

Ulysses, 
In  whose  return  he  beheld  the  return  of  his  peo- 
ple from  bondage, 
When  they  fled  through  the  sea  and  the  wilderness 

drear  out  of  Egypt. 
High   beat  the   wish   in  his   heart  and  rose  to  a 

longing  resistless. 
Thee  to  behold,  the  singer  of  Hellas  — he  too  is 

a  singer  — 
Ere  the  dark  Fates  of  Death  shall  clutch  thee  and 

hale  thee  to  Hades. 
He   has  stepped  down   from  his  throne  to  pay 

thee  a  visit  of  honor. 
Leaving  his  own  far  away,  he  has  come   to   the 

country  of  Javaii, 
Turning  the  point  of  his  law,  which   keeps   him 

aloof  from  the  stranger. 
Greatest  of  musical  Hellenes,  thou,  the  voice  of 

the  Muses 
Singing  forever  down  time  and  making  thy  lan- 
guage eternal. 
Homer,  before   thee   stands   Israel's   sovereign, 

singer,  King  David." 

Such  were  the  words   of   Mesander,   the  em- 
bassy's eloquent  spokesman. 
He   in  Cyprus  was  born,  and  long  he  had  lived 
with  Phoenicians, 


180  HOMER  IN   CHIOS, 

Learning  their  manners    and    speech,    when  he 

came  as  sailor  to  Sidon  ; 
Also  he  traded  with  Tyre,  when  Hiram  was  king 

of  the  country, 
Hiram,  the  King  of   rich  Tyre,  the  friend  and 

ally  of  David. 
Skillful  in  talking  the   tongues,   Mesander  had 

seen  many  nations. 
Noting  the  merits  of  each,  he  spoke  the  language 

of  concord. 
Artful  in  dealing  with  men,  he  was  often  chosen 

as  envoy. 
Wandering  over  the  world,  as  interpreter  came 

ho  to  Jewry, 
Even  a  poet  he  was  and  doubly  was  dear  to  King 

David. 
But  he  remained  a  good  Greek,  although  he  was 

born  on  the  border. 
Quite  on  the  line  where   Shem  and  Japhct  have 

fought  for  dominion 
All  through  the  ages,  and  mingled  in  battle  the 

blood  of  their  children. 
Greek  though  he  was,  Mesander  partook  of  them 

both  in  his  spirit. 
Sought  to  keep    peace  between    the   combative 

souls  of  the  brothers. 
Sought  to  mjike  each  understand  the  greatness 

and  worth  of  the  other. 
Deftly  uniting  the  East  and   the  West  in  the 

truth  that  is  common. 


THE  PSALMIST  OF  ISRAEL.  181 

Good  was  the  Greek  and  yet  he  was  vain,  the 

showy  Mesander 
Called  by  the  envious  Hebrew,  although  beloved 

by  King  David; 
Vain  of  his  gift  he  was,  of  his  gift  in  the  tongues 

and  in  song  too. 
How  he  would  strut  when  he  made  a  good  speech, 

or  perchance  a  good  verselet ! 
He  could  put  on  more  airs  than  David  and  Homer 

together. 

When  Mesander  had  spoken,  the  King  looked 
around  i'or  a  moment ; 

Lo  !  he  is  stopped  in  his  look,  he  is  caught  in  the 
glance  of  fair  Sappho, 

Tranced  by  her  face  and  her  figure  he  cried : 
**  What  a  beautiful  woman  ! 

How  would  she  like  to  appear  in  my  palace,  a 
daughter  of  Israel, 

Aye,  a  wife  to  the  King,  and  a  light  of  Greek 
beauty  to  Hebrews!  " 

Sappho  looked  on  the  ground,  she  knew  the  lan- 
guage of  glances, 

Sappho  knew  the  language  of  love,  even  when  it 
is  silent. 

Though  she  did  not  understand  the  Hebrew,  the 
language  of  David, 

And  Mesander  kept  still,  for  he  honored  the  Les- 
bian songstress. 


182  HOMER  IN  CHIOS. 

Then  to  the  words  of  Israel's  Monarch  re- 
sponded Homerus, 

**  Welcome,  O  friend,  to  the  isles  of  the  sea,  to 
the  land  of  fair  Hellas, 

Enter  my  garden  and  home,  to  me  thou  slialt  be 
as  a  brother  I 

Thj  great  name  I  have  heard,  it  was  borne  from 
the  realm  of  Phoenicians, 

By  the  Tyrian  princes  wlio  trade  in  their  ships 
with  Greek  merchants. 

Sweet  though  faint  is  the  shred  of  thy  song  in  the 
land  of  Achseans, 

Floating  over  the  sea  from  the  East  to  the  tune 
of  the  sunrise. 

How  I  have  longed  to  list  to  your  Muses,  so  lofty, 
so  holy ! 

Now  the  moment  has  come  ere  I  pass  into  pitiless 
Hades ; 

Oft  in  my  heart  I  have  felt  you  had  something  I 
had  not,  but  needed. 

Strike  the  harp  I  sing  the  song  I  one  burst  of  your 
heavenly  music  I 

And  of  your  God  I  would  know  through  melo- 
dious lips  of  his  servant, 

For  we  all  have  need  of  the  God,  be  he  one,  be 
he  many, 

Dwelling  in  man  and  the  world,  over  Hellas  en- 
throned or  Judea. 

Tell  me  the  story  of  trials  I  heard  conceruing 
your  people. 


TEE  PSALMIST  OF  ISBAEL.  183 

As  from  bondage  it  fled  with  its  God  from  the 

land  of  the  Nile-streiim ; 
That,  methinks,  is  the  story  of  man,  to  be  told 

him  forever, 
Oft  repeating  itself  in  his  life  and  the  life  of  the 

nations. 
We  the  Greeks  have  also  divinely  been  put  under 

training, 
Through  sore  trial  our  Gods  have  tested  the  love 

of  their  people, 
Tested  our  mettle  Hellenic  to  do  the  grand  task 

of  the  ages ; 
Over  to  Troy  we  went  and  we  fought  ten  years 

for  our  heirship, 
Asia  we  had  to  assail  that  we  save  our  beautiful 

Helen." 

Then  the  dark  king  of  the  East  laid  off  his  gar- 
ments of  purple. 

And  a  golden  harp  he  took  from  the  hand  of  its 
holder, 

Harp  of  ten  strings  to  which  he  chanted  the 
praise  of  Jehovah. 

Also  his  voice  he  essayed  in  a  caroling  upward 
and  downward; 

Sweet  were  the  tones  which  he  rapidly  touched 
in  the  strains  of  his  prelude. 

Soft  were  the  notes  which  he  secretly  hummed 
to  himself  for  the  trial, 


184  HOMEB  IN  CHIOS. 

Gently   he    glided   to    words,    that  wedded  the 

tender  vibrations, 
Making     the   measures    of    song  which    skillful 

Mesander  translated. 
Homer  hearkened,  laying  his  soul  to  the  lips  of 

King  David, 
Who   sang  Israel's   strain  till   it  filled  the   fair 

garden  of  Chios : 

'*  Happiest   nation    of   nations   I  sing,  whose 

God  is  tJehovah ; 
Blessed  forever  and  ever  the  people  whom  He 

hath  chosen, 
Looking  down  from  the  heavens  the  children  of 

men  He  beholdeth, 
Israel's  children  He  loves,  but  His  law  is  the  law 

of  the  nations. 
Praise  Him,  my  soul,  the  one  holy  God,  He  is  the 

Almighty; 
Praise  Him,  the  King  of  the  Kings,  the  Monarch 

of  earth  and  of  heaven, 
Whose  thoughts  are  a  great  deep,  and  His  right- 
eousness like  a  great  mountain; 
Trust  in  the  Lord  and  do  good,  for  He  laughs  at 

the  cunning  of  evil. 
Its  keen  sword,  when  drawn  against  Him,  shall 

pierce  its  own  bosom. 
He  is  the  law  of  the  world,  which  to  men  He  has 

mightily  given, 


THE  PSALMIST  OF  ISRAEL.  185 

He  is  the  law  of  the  world,  and  He  is  also  the 
judgment. 

List  to  His  voice  as  it  speaketh  aloud  in  the  roll 
of  the  thunder, 

See  Him  fold  up  the  sea  in  His  hand  like  a  gar- 
ment of  waters, 

Hark  how  the  cedars  of  Lebanon  crash  in  the 
breath  of  His  anger ! 

Hark  to  His  law,  ye  nations:  No  other  God  is 
before  me.*' 

In  the  might  of  his  mood  sang  the  King  high 

strains  of  his  language. 
Which  Mesander  the  spokesman    turned  to  the 

speech  of  Homerus ; 
To    the    hexameter's  swing   he  broke    the    wild 

cadence  of  Hebrew, 
Tuning  Israel's  heavenly  flight  to  the  tread  of  a 

heathen, 
Training  in  bounds  of  Greek  measure  the  sweep 

of  divine  aspiration. 
Oft  he  had  done  so  before,  and  now  he  would 

peep  in  a  scroll  there. 
Made  of  a  papery  rind  of  Egyptian  reeds  from 

the  Nile  fens. 
Which  he  held  in  his  hand,  scratched  over  and 

over  with  scribblings. 
Curious  mystical  signs  which  seemed  to  whisper 

in  secret. 


186                         HOMER  ly  CHIOS.  I 

I 

Only  by  him  understood  was  the  talk  of  those  J 

signs  and  their  meaning,  I 

Still  their  voice  was  not  heard,  for  they  talked  in  | 

a  flash  to  his  evesight.  I 

\ 

But  at  last  he  raised  up  his  eyes  and  folded  his  \ 

writing, 

And  in  a  glow  he  spoke,  that  Grecian  of  Cyprus,  | 

to  Homer :  1 

**  Give  him  the  roar  of  thy  seas,  as  thoy  rise  like  I 

Icarian  billows, 
Give  him  the  swell  of  thy  heart  as  it  heaves  in 

the  height  of  the  battle,  \ 

Give  him  the  roll  of  thy  measures  in  waves  of  the  I 

blue  Hellespontus  ;  | 

O  Maeonides,  sing  him  thy  Zeus,  the  God  of  the  ^ 

Hellenes,  i 
Father  whose  children  are  Gods  who    come  with 

their  help  to  us  mortals.  \ 

Sands  of  the  desert  below,  and  glories  of  Heaven  j 

above  us  ] 

He  has  sung  —  now  give  him  thy  concord  of  man  i 

and  the  world  here,  \ 
Give  him  thy  concert  of  Earth  and   Olympus, 

divine  and  the  human,  i 

And  for  thee  I  shall  do  what   for  him    I   have  I 

done  —  translate  thee.*'  j 

Softly  Homer  began  with  a  prayer   that  fell  i 

into  measures:  I 


THE  PSALMIST  OF  ISBAEL.  187 

'*Zeus,  high  father  of  Gods  and  of  men,  Olym- 
pian father ! 

Son  thyself  of  old  Cronus,  consumer  of  all  of  his 
children, 

Thou  has  escaped  from  his  maw  and  dethroned 
thy  pitiless  parent, 

Who  would  be  all  to  himself  in  the  world,  with- 
out even  offspring. 

Hear  me,  O  Zeus,  me  the  mortal,  but  loving  thy 
worship  and  order ! 

Not  by  thyself  dost  thou  rule  from  the  top  of 
snowy  Olympus, 

Highest  of  all  thy  gifts  thou  dost  share  unto 
others  —  thy  godhood. 

Many  divinities  sit  in  a  circle  majestic  around 
thee, 

Gods  and  goddesses  too  are  thy  sons  and  thy 
beautiful  daughters. 

Whom  thou  hast  raised  to  thy  heights  and  with 
thee  hast  mnde  to  be  rulers, 

Kuling  the  air  and  the  earth  and  even  the  under- 
world sunless. 

Ruling  the  man  in  his  deed  and  also  his  inner- 
most spirit. 

Still  thou  art  ever  the  first  among  many,  in  mind 
and  in  power. 

And  in  authority  over  the  Gods  thou  art  surely 
the  sovereign. 

Let  any  deity  dare  to  question  thy  might  for  a 
moment, 


188  HOMEB  m  CHIOS. 

Down  to  black  Tartarus  whirls  he  to  sit  with  the 
hopeless  Titans." 

Skillful  Mesander  now  did  his  best  to  turn  this 

to  Hebrew, 
Toning  a  word  here  and  there  to  suit  tho  fine  ear 

of  King  David, 
Fitting  to  music  the  thought,  as  it  flowed  from 

the  heart  of  the  singer; 
But  in  spite  of  his  skill,  the  translation  ran  rough 

in  hard  places. 
Free  Greek  speech  would  not  always  dance  to 

the  tune  of  Semitic, 
Homer's  hexameters  broke  in  the  back    at  the 

gait  of  the  psalm-song, 
And  the  Monarch  would  scowl  when  he  heard  of 

tho  Gods  in  the  plural. 
Yet  he  would  smile  to  himself  at  the  noise  about 

beautiful  Helen, 
For  the  God  of  the  King  must  be  one,  though  his 

wives  may  be  many; 
Gods  of  the  Greek  may  be  many,  his  wife  is  the 

one,  the  one  only, 
Whom  to  save  he  is  ready  to  fight  ten  years  with 

the  Orient. 

Sly    Typtodes   had     slipped  up    behind    and 
peeped  iuto  the  papers 
Which  the  interpreter  held  in  his  hand  when  his 
reading  had  ended ; 


THE  PSALMIST  OF  ISRAEL,  189 

Then  began  to  address  him  in  whispers  the  peda- 
gogue prying: 

**  What  is  that  script  which  I  see,  that  strange 
miraculous  scribbling? 

Have  you  too  the  mystical  writ  of  symbols 
Phoenician  ? 

Mighty  it  will  be  forever,  preserving  both  David 
and  Homer, 

Rescued  from  sounds  of  the  voice  and  fixed  into 
signs  for  the  vision. 

And  the  schoolmaster  now  will  have  work  in 
each  new  generation. 

Teaching  the  name  and  the  shape  and  the  sound 
of  the  wonderful  letters. 

Till  they  together  be  put  into  words,  the  holders 
of  all  things. 

Then  the  pupil  will  spell  out  the  deed  and  the 
thought  of  aforetime. 

Spurred  by  the  sprig  of  the  laurel  held  in  the 
hand  of  the  teacher. 

That  I  call  progress,  that  is  the  march  of  man- 
kind to  the  better ! 

Nor  will  it  stop  till  every  youth  in  the  land  knows 
the  letters, 

Every  youth  in  the  world  must  know  the  Phoe- 
nicians symbols." 

Ere  Typtodes  had  done,  strong  currents  had 
drowned  out  his  whisper. 


190  HOMER  m  CHIOS. 

Strong  loud  currents  of  song  that  rose  from  the 

throat  of  the  singer, 
Overflowing  all  bounds  of  the  sea  when   the  tide 

runs  the  highest, 
And  it  came  from  the  fathomless  heart  of  Israel's 

psalmist : 
**  Praised  be  Jehovah,   in  Him  is  our  trust,  the 

God  of  our  Fathers, 
From  everlasting  to  everlasting  He  is  the  ruler! 
In  the  land  of  Egypt  we  toiled  and  we  wept  in 

our  sorrow, 
Slaves    were   Jacob's    children,    but   they  were 

never  forgotten, 
From  the  slime  of  the  Nile  we  fled  to  the  shore 

of  the  Red  Sea, 
Always  we  saw  a  great  hand   reach  out  of  the 

cloud  round  about  us. 
Smiting  the  chains  of  our  bondage  and  pointing 

the  way  of  our  rescue. 
Through  the  walls  of  the  waters  we  crossed  dry- 
shod  on  the  bottom, 
Long  in  the  wilderness  forward  and  backward  in 

trial  we  wandered. 
Till  we  returned  to  our  home,  the  primitive  home 

of  our  Fathers, 
Bearing  the  law  in  our  hearts,  which  was  given  in 

thunders  at  Sinai. 
Sing,  O  my  soul,  the  high  song,  the  return  to 

the  land  of  our  promi-^e. 


THE  PSALMIST  OF  ISRAEL.  191 

Sing  it  for  me  and  for  mine,  and  for  wandering 

millions  hereafter, 
Millions  on  millions  unborn,  the  countless  sons  of 

the  future." 

As  he  ended  he  turned  to  Hesperion,  child  of 

the  Northland, 
Into  whose  shadowy   semblance  he  peered  in  a 

wonder  while  singing, 
For  that  youth  had  the  face  among  face«  which 

look  at  the  speaker, 
Drawing  him  always  secretly  back  to  the  spell  of 

its  gazes. 
Back  to  itself  it  draws  him,  unconscious  of  magical 

power. 
Showing  him  dreamlike  glimpses   of   something 

afar  that  is  coming. 
Thus  the  youth  of  the  North  attracted  the  look 

of  King  David, 
Who  seemed  glancing  into    futurity  throned  in 

that  visage. 
Far-off  futurity  throned  in  the  visage  of  dreamful 

Hesperion, 
As  he  stood  there  beside  the  beautiful  daughter 

of  Homer, 
Who  all  the  future  had  read  in  the  soft  blue  eyes 

of  the  stranger. 
Dreamful    Hesperion,    lately  arrived   from    the 

snows  of  the  Northland. 


192  HOMER  IN  CHIOS. 

Soon  the  poet  of  Hellas  began  once  more  full 

of  fervor, 
Gently  attuning  his  note  somewhat  to  the  music 

of  David : 
'*  Singer,  thou  art  of  the  East,    but  thy   strain 

belongs  to  the  West  too, 
In  it  I  hear  the  same  voice  that  to  me  is  the  voice 

of  the  Muses, 
By  whose  help  I  also  have  sung  the  return  of  my 

people, 
That  was  the  sad  return  of  the  haughty  victori- 
ous Argives, 
Coming  from  Troy  in  their  ships  to  their  homes 

on  island  and  mainland; 
Many  were  lost  through  wrath  of  the  Gods,  hut 

the  faithful  were  rescued. 
Though  the  path  was  doubtful  and  long  that  lay 

on  the  waters. 
Lately  I  finished  the  tale  which  tells  the  return  of 

Ulysses, 
Who  on  the  passionate  sea  had  to  wander  with 

foolish  companions; 
Much  he   endured   in   his   heart,    and    much   he 

doubted  in  spirit, 
Till  he  came  back  to  his  Ithacan  home,  to  Pene- 
lope prudent, 
Where  in  peace  he  dwelt  till  the  Fates  had  spun 

out  his  life-thread. 
Great  the  return  of  Israel,  hymning  itself  in  all 

peoples, 


THE  PSALMIST  OF  ISRAEL.  193 

Great  the  return  of  Achsea,  which  also  will  not 

be  forgotten. 
Different  may  be  our  speech,  but  one  at  last   is 

the  meaning, 
Different  may  be  our  blood,  but  it  all  responds  to 

one  heart-beat. 
Different  may  be  our  Gods,  but  the  Man  is    the 

same  in  us  both  here/* 

Spoken     the    winged  word,    uprose   divinely 

Homerus, 
Reaching  out   with   his  fingers,  he  felt  for  the 

hand  of  King  David, 
Trip-hammer  strokes  of  his  heart  beating  time 

to  the  voice  of  the  Muses: 
**  Mortals  may  blame  the  Gods  for  their  ill,   but 

it  is  their  own  folly. 
Through  themselves  they  must  perish,  ere  Gods 

are  able  to  smite  them, 
Ate  is  sent  for  by  man,  else  even  the  Gods  could 

not  send  her, 
What  through  man  the  divinities  do,   is  also  his 

doing. 
His  is  the  deed,  though  the  world  is  divine  in 

which  he  can  do  it. 
But  the  one  deity  truly  is  thine,  the  God  of  the 

ages. 
All  shall  pass  away,  but  He  abideth  forever. 
Hear  my  prophecy,   hear  it  and  weigh  it,  con- 
cerning two  poets 

13 


194  HOMER  IN  CHIOS, 

\ 
Standingr  in  Chios  and  looking  afar  on  the  worlds 

in  the  sunset;  ; 

One  shall  lift  up  the  soul  from  below  to  the  pres-  ' 

ence  immortal, 

And  will  quicken  the  heart  to  worship,  unseen,  j 

the  Eternal ;  ■ 

But  the  other  will  show  the  trial  and  triumph  of  i 

Heroes, 

Singing  into  his  strains  the  homage  undying  of  \ 

beauty.  \ 

Both  as  brothers  shall  go  down  the  echoing  hall  j 

of  the  ages.  \ 

Echoing:   double    one   voice   from   the  heart  of  ! 

Greece  and  Judea.  j 

Two  are  the  aisles  in  the  temple  of  song,  Hellenic,  ! 

Hebraic,  \ 

One  is  the  harmony  under  them  both,  the  har-  \ 

mony  human,  j 

Tuning  to  musical  life  the  Man  and  the  God  in  i 

their  struggle."  \ 

Slowly  the  poet  of  Hellas  drew  back  to  his  seat  i 

in  the  settle,  j 

But  his  mind  ran  on  in  its  might,  though  his  body  i 

was  weary,  ^ 

And  he  continued:  **  One  thing  more  my  spirit  ; 

must  tell  thee. 

Hear  now  my  prayer,  O  David,  and  call  it  the  i 

prayer  of  Homer : 


THE  PSALMIST  OF  ISBAEL.  195 

May  the  son  ever  be  a  much  better  man  than  his 
father!" 

At  the  thought  he  suddenly  turned  and  seemed 
to  be  looking, 

Though  he  was  blind,  he  seemed  to  be  looking  and 
prying  about  him  : 

**  But  I  forget !  I  have  a  new  pupil,  where  is  he? 
Hesperion  ? 

Where  is  Hesperion,  dreamful  youth  of  the  neb- 
ulous Northland? 

And  I  forget  too  my  daughter,  where  is  she? 
Praxilla?  Praxilla? 

Surely  to-day  she  is  roaming,  my  daughter,  my 
sunny  Praxilla !  " 

In  a  moment  the  crowd  was  movinor  and  turninoj 

and  looking. 
All    would  peep  at  the  pair  whom  the  poet  had 

coupled  together ; 
What  he  had  joined  in  his  words,  they  surmised 

he  had  joined  in  his  thoughts  too. 
Every  boy  in  the  school  surmised  what  was  going 

to  happen. 
Every  boy  in  the  school  blushed  red  as  if  he  were 

Guilty  of  hiding  away  in   his  heart  an  arrow  of 

Epos, 
Which   had   pricked  him  with  jealousy's    pang, 

though  slyly  secreted. 


196  HOMEIi  m  CHIOS. 

First  he  peeped  for  his  rival,  but  found  no  reward 
for  his  peeping, 

Saw  no  Hesperion,  dreamful  youth  of  the  neb- 
ulous Northland, 

Then  he  would  speak  in  low  tones  to  his  neigh- 
bor, who  had  to  make  answer; 

Each  was  disguising  the  timorous  thought  that 
trembled  within  him. 

Each  was  telling  it  too  just  through  his  careful 
disguises ; 

Soon  the  whole  school  was  a  whisper,  asking: 
Where  is  Praxilla? 

Soon  the  whole  school  was  a  whisper,  replying, 
Where  is  Hesperion? 

Crabbed    Typtodes,     the    schoolmaster,   still 

was  present  and  looking. 
But  he  nowhere   saw   what  he  looked  for,  the 

daughter  of  Homer, 
Whom  he  too  would  see  and  would  sue  in  spite 

of  his  wrinkles ; 
Teaching  the   verses   of  Homer,  he  weened  he 

could  teach  the  fair  daughter. 
Writing  Phoenician  letters,  he  thought  he  would 

write  her  a  poem. 
Vain   is   the   effort,   to-day   he   is   wearied  and 

worried  with  waiting; 
In  his  sandals  he  shuffles  along  to  the  side  of 

Mesander, 


THE  PSALMIST  OF  ISBAEL,  197 

Whom  he  somehow  thinks  to  be  kin  to  himself 

in  the  spirit ; 
Him  he  bespeaks  on  a  point  quite  aloof  from  the 

way  of  the  lover: 
**  Long  you  have  dwelt  in  Phoenicia,  you   say, 

and  know  all  its  learning; 
Have   you   the  songs  set  down  in   the  signs  of 

strange  Alpha-Beta, 
Cunning  symbols   of   speech,  that  fix  the   fleet 

breath  of  the  singer?" 
**Yes,"  responded    with    joy   the    dexterous 

spokesman  Mesander, 
**  All    have   been  set  down  in   signs  so  that  we 

can  hear  them  forever 
Only  by  seeing  them,  look,  the  cunning  Phoeni- 
cian symbols ! 
Thousands  of  years  from  now,  yea,  millions  on 

millions  of  ages. 
Men  will  have  but  to  look  on  these  signs  and  will 

hear  King  David, 
Magical  signs  of  the  word,  which  make  the  good 

poem  eternal. 
I  have  all  of  his  songs   scratched  down  on  the 

folds  of  this  scroll  here." 

Lowering  still  his  tone,  Typtodes  spoke  to  Me- 
sander, 
Confidentially  bending  his  head  more  near  while 
speaking: 


198  HOMEIt  m  CHIOS. 

**  I  have  noted  it  well ;  while  you  talked,  I  peeped 

over  your  shoulder. 
But  I  must  tell  you  a  secret,  which  nobody  knows 

of  in  Chios  — 
Long  I  have  wrought  to  set  down  in  these  signs 

the  poems  of  Homer; 
What  a  task  it  has  been  —  the  burning  by  drops 

of  my  heart's  blood! 
It  is  done,  but  yesterday  done,  and  to-day  I  have 

brought  it. 
Hid  in  my  bosom;  toilsome  the  work  but  I  felt 

it  was  worthy. 
Though  I  find  fault  with  the  failings  of  Homer 

and  slash  him  to  fragments; 
See !  I  have  poured  out  my  life  into  writ,  here 

it  is,  O  Mesander — 
One  small  roll  out  of  many,  the  rest  I  shall  fetch 

from  the  school-house. 
One  short  day  out  of  many,  all  which  have  sunk 

into  Lethe.'* 
"Surely  no  idler  thou  art,"   said  the  Greek 

from  the  island  of  Cyprus, 
And  thou   mo  vest   along   with   the    world,    the 

schoolmaster  moves  too, 
Spirit  needeth  the  letter,  the  letter  too  needeth 

the  spirit. 
Homer  will  last,  but  the  pedagogue  Chian  will  not 

be  forgotten, 
Who  was  the  first  to  put  into  script  the  song  of 

the  poet. 


THE  PSALMIST  OF  ISRAEL.  199 

Making  him  sing  forever  in  spite  of  the  Fates, 
the  grim  spinners." 

Both  of  the  men  had  still  something  to  say  on 

the  matter  of  letters. 
But  they  suddenly  stopped  when  they  heard  the 

voice  of  the  poet 
Not   now   chanting   a  musical  strain  to  the  Gods 

and  the  Heroes, 
But    impatiently    calling     aloud,    «*Hesperion! 

Praxilla!" 
Twice  he  repeated,  *'  Where  is  Hesperion !  Where 

is  my  daughter?  " 
*'  Here  I   am  on  this  side,"  soon  spake  up  the 

youth  of  the  Northland, 
<*  Here  I  am  on  the  other,"  responded  the  maiden 

Praxilla. 
Both  of  them  spoke  in  their  joy  as  they  suddenly 

sprang  from  an  arbor. 
Where  they  had  hid  from  the  crowd  for  a  moment 

of  sweet  conversation, 
Words  of  the   twain  now   blended   together  to 

tenderest  music. 
And   their   voice  was  wedded  in  love,  preluding 

the  marriage: 
<'  For   thy   blessing  we   come,  thy   blessing,  O 

father  Homerus." 

Then  both  kneeled  at  his  side,  brave  youth  and 
beautiful  maiden. 


200  HOMER  JiV  CHIOS. 

"Rapid  work,  my  children,  too  rapid,  and  yet  * 

I  confirm  it !  | 

Who  can  catch  and  turn  back  in  its  flight  the  | 

arrow  of  Eros?  } 

Well   I   foresaw  what   was  coming,    I  knew    in  | 

advance  the  whole  story.  ■ 

Did  you  think  because  I  was  blind,  I  never  could  | 

see  you  ?  i 

All  the   while  I  could  see  you  doing  just  what  I  i 

intended.  | 

But   enough !  You  have  my  approval,  take  now  "l 

my  blessing ! "  I 
Laying   each  hand   on  a  head,  he  rose  up  with 

them  together.  | 

Standing   between  the  twain,  once  more  spoke  ] 

the  poet  to  David  : 

**  Thee  I   beseech,  O  Monarch,  yet  greater  than  ; 

Monarch,  a  Singer,  ji 

Stay   with  me  here,   for  to-morrow  is  given  in  ] 

marriage  my  daughter ; 

Go  to  rest  in  my  chamber  and  wake  up  renewed  1 

in  the  morning,  1 

Both   of  us   then  shall  sing  together  the  song  of  j 

the  wedding,  1 

Ere  we  send  off  the  pair  to  the  distant  forests  of  j 

Northland. 

Thou    must  give  them  thy  God,  the  One,  and  his  ] 

high  adoration, 
I  shall  show  them  the  Man,  the  beautiful  Man  in 

his  freedom." 


X. 

xmm. 

The  Marriage. 


(201) 


ARGUMENT. 

All  come  together  in  the  moiining  for  the /wedding  fes- 
tival of  Hesperion  and  Praxilla,  The  scholars  have  a 
choral  dance  in  honor  of  the  event;  Glaucus  and  Dem- 
odocus  confess  their  great  disappointment.  Sappho 
chants  for  the  pair  her  last  measures  of  love  and  good 
wishes.  Typtodes  brings  as  his  bridal  gift  the  poems 
of  Homer  written  in  the  new  alphabet.  Homer  and 
David  give  to  the  pair  their  blessing  and  with  it  their  two 
books,  tohich  are  to  be  borne  to  the  new  home,  whither 
the  happy  couple  now  set  forth  on  their  journey. 


(^02) 


Up  rose  the  Sun  in  his  car  and  lit  the  Ionian 

heavens, 
Driving:  the  timorous  Dawn  far  over  the  sea  to  the 

westward, 
Seeming    to  mount  to  the    sky   in   flames  that 

burst  from  his  glances 
For  some  joy  that  he  felt  and  imparted  to  earth 

and  to  ocean. 
Like  a  bridegroom  he  rose  and  put  on  his  gar- 
ments of  splendor, 
Gold  he  was  strewing  wherever  he  looked  on  the 

land  and  the  water. 
Warm   was   the  thrill  as  he  reached    from  afar 

with  his  radiant  fingers, 
Earth  awoke  at  the  touch  and  sprang  up  respond- 

(203) 


204  HOMER  IN  CHIOS. 

Every  creature  was   singing,  even  still  voices  of 

nature 
Chanted  the  hymn  of  the   Sun  as  he  soared  up 

the  sky  in  the  morning. 
Purple  and  scarlet  and  gold  were  his  regal  changes 

of   raiment, 
Jewels  he  flung  with  his  sheen  in  the  lap  of  the 

beautiful  island, 
Which  peeped  forth  from  the  waves  in  a  smile  at 

the  sport  of  the  sunbeams. 
As  from  slumber  it  woke  and  lay  on  the  bed  of 

the  billows. 
Chios  he  kissed  in  a  rapture,  as  if  his   bride  he 

were  kissing. 
All  the  heart  of  the  Sun  was  flowing  to  love  and 

to  marriage. 
As  he  glowed  and  he  glanced  down  into  the  gar- 
den of  Homer. 

Both  of  the  poets  had  risen   from  sleep,  the 

Greek  and  the  Hebrew, 
And  were  sitting  together,  in  joy  saluting  the 

morning. 
Which  from  earth  and  from  heaven  returned  the 

high  salutation. 
"Beautiful  is  this  world  of  Jehovah,*'  shouted 

King  David. 
**  Praised  be  his  name,  for  his  law  is  the  law  which 

endureth  forever.** 


THE  MABBIAOE.  205 

<*  Beautiful  is  this  world  of  the  Gods,"  responded 

Homerus, 
«*  Beautiful  too  is  the  man,  divinely  upbearing  his 

freedom." 

Thus  they  continued  their  talk,  which  ran  of 

itself  into  measure, 
All  of  their  speech  was  a  song,  and  each  of  them 

sang  to  the  other. 
Two  were  the  strains  on  the  tongue,  yet  both 

reached  down  to  one  key-note. 
Siiillf  ul  Mesander  translated  the  twain  and  added 

his  comment. 

Soon  they  all  had  gathered  together  with  David 

and  Homer, 
Hearing  the  note  of  the  East  and  the  West  in  the 

words  of  the  masters. 
Lovely  Sappho   was   present,  the   soft-speaking 

songstress  of  Lesbos, 
But  she  was  silent,  for  eagerly  now  she  heard  the 

new  message. 
Heard  the  voice  of  the   law  as  it  fell  from  the 

lips  of  the  psalmist, 
Though  she  felt  that  the  sinojer  himself  was  not 

free  of  its  judgment. 
Still  in  her  thought  slie  did  not  upbraid  him  who 

rose  after  falling, 
Nor  condemn  what  her  own  tender  heart  had  told 

her  was  human. 


206  HOMEB  IN   CHIOS. 

Shifty  Typtodes,  the   pedagogue  Chian,  doth 

seem  to  be  absent ;  ^ 

No,  he  is  coming,  yonder  he  shuffles  along  in  his  I 

sandals,  | 

He  has  set  down  the  poems  of  Homer  in  symbols  | 

Phoenician, 

Though  he  won  not  tlie  daughter,  h'e  must  be  a  j 

truest  at  her  marriaore.  I 

Look !  he   hastes  up  the  path,  and  carries   the  | 

rolls  of  his  paper,  i 
Rolls  first  made  of  the  rind  of  the  fen-born  rush, 

the  papyrus,  J 

On  which  is  written  the   word  of  the  poet   for  j 

ages  hereafter ;  ] 
Book  it  is  called,  the  scribbled  peelings  of  rushes 

of  Egypt.  ] 

\ 

Next  were  seen  the  beautiful  youths  who  sang  \ 

in  a  chorus,  \ 

Gracefully  stepping  along,  attuning  their  dance  | 

to  the  song-beat,  j 

All  the  youths  of  the  school  were  there   arrayed  | 

for  the  wedding, 

Spotless  they  shone  in  white  raiment  falling    in  I 

folds  to  their  motion.  \ 
From  the  East  and  the  West  they  had  come,    all 

joined  the  procession,  \ 
And  they  began  the  high  song  with  a  festal  pray- 
er together, 


THE  MARRIAGE.  207 

Prayer  beseeching  the  presence  divine  of  the 
God  of  Espousals : 

<<  Hail  Hymenseus,  hail!  O  come  to  the  island 
of  Chios, 

Come  to  the  glorious  island  of  song  that  is  sing- 
ing thy  praises! 

Great  is  the  need  of  thy  presence  to  bless  what 
is  going  to  happen, 

For  the  lots  of  marriage  are  now  to  be  drawn  by 
a  maiden, 

Rarest  of  maidens  of  Hellas,  the  beautiful  daugh- 
ter of  Homer. 

Be  not  absent,  O  deity,  rule  the  caprices  of 
Fortune ; 

Hail  Hymenseus,  hail !  make  the  tie  of  the  pair 
everlasting!  " 

David  the  King  drew  near,  and  spake  to    the 

youth  of  the  Northland, 
"  Speed  thee  afar  to  thy  forests,  and  take  this 

maiden  Hellenic, 
Her  thou  must  win  to   thy  love,  for  thou  never 

canst  marry  a  Jewess, 
'Tis  not  allowed  by  the  law  —  no  hope  thou  canst 

have  for  my  daughter, 
Whom  I  have  left  behind   with  the  rest  of  the 

daughters  of  Israel ; 
These  we   keep  to  ourselves  for  the   glory  and 

praise  of  Jehovah. 


208  HOMEB  IN  CHIOS. 

But  unrewarded  thou    shalt  not  pass  from    my 

presence  this  morning, 
All  that  is  best  of  myself,  whatever  is  good  in 

my  nation, 
I  shall  give  as  a  present  to  thee  and  thy  people 

forever. 
It  shall  attune  thee  anew  to  its  song  when  thy 

soul  is  discordant, 
From  thy  fall  it  shall  lift  thee  on  high  with  fresh 

aspiration. 
It  shall  stead  thee  in  trial  the  sorest,   in  death  it 

shall  stead  thee. 
Now  its  words  have  been  written  in  signs  that 

came  from  Phoenicia, 
Musical  sounds  of  the  voice  have  been  set  down 

in  signs  for  the  vision 
On  that  ^Egyptian  peel  of  a  rush,  called  Byblus, 

the  Bible. 
We  have  brought  it  along   on    our    journey  — 

Where  is  it,  Mesander?" 

Here  the  translator  suddenly  stopped  his  talk- 
ing Hellenic, 

Spoke  in  Hebrew  the  word  of  reply  which  has 
not  been  translated. 

Taking  the  folds  of  a  curious  roll  written  over 
with  letters. 

Looking  the  look  of  a  victor,  he  handed  it  soon 
to  the  Monarch. 


THE  MABBIAGE.  209 

Meanwhile  trembling  in  voice  spake  up  good 

father  Homerus, 
**  Now  may  life  pass  away,  the  end  I  have  seen  of 

my  living; 
When   his  work   has   been   done,  not   long  the 

mortal  will  tarry ; 
More  cannot  fall  to  my  lot,  my  hours  henceforth 

are  a  passage  ; 
After   to-day   I   shall   sing  no    more,  the    spirit 

refuses ; 
Words  cannot  tell   what  I  think,  but  bound  the 

flight  of  my  vision ; 
Life  I  have  loved,  for  it  was  a  deed,  and  it  was  a 

song  too. 
But  it  is  done,  and  the  time  draws  near  —  the 

time  of  my  silence. 
When  the  sound  of  my  song  will  be  but  an  echo 

repeating. 
Ever  repeating   the  voice  which  I  flung  on  the 

breezes  of  Hellas. 
Daughter,  go ;    I  send  thee  far  off  to  the  folk  of 

the  Northland, 
Thither  now  bear  my  song,  for  it  is  my  gift  to 

the  ages  ; 
May  thy  children  be  heirs  of  the  lay  and  the  life 
of  Greek  Homer." 

Such  were  the  words  of  the  parent,  and  they 
were  never  forgotten. 
U 


210  JIOMEE  IN   CHIOS. 

All  of  the  company  present  were  touched  by  the 

tone  of  the  farewell, 
For  they  seemed  to  hear  the  refrain  of  a  lay  in 

the  distance, 
Giving  a  soft  response  from  bej'ond  to  the  note 

of  the  poet, 
Who  was  singing  to-day  the  last,  last  strains  of 

his  swan-song. 

Hark  to  the  bardlings !  a  youth  steps  forth  from 

the  line  of  the  chorus. 
With   a   discord  in  look  and  in  heart  —  it  was 

high-born  Glaucus, 
Who  from  Lycia  came,  and  now  he  sang  to  the 

maiden  : 
<*  I  have  tried  to  win  the  hand  of  the  daughter 

of  Homer ; 
How  I  longed  to  carry  her  off  to  the  banks    of 

the  Xanthus, 
Where  is  my  sweet  sunny  homo  by  the  banks  of 

the  eddying  Xanthus ! 
Honest  my  suit  was  to  bear  her  away  once  more, 

the  Greek  Helen, 
Peacefully  bring  back  the  beautiful  prize  of   the 

world  into  Asia; 
But  I  have  lost,  the  Gods  are  against  me,  and 

turn  from  my  people ; 
All  I  have  lost,  I  must  now  see  the  bride  borne 

off  to  the  westward  — 


THE  MABBIAQE.  211 

I  the  son  of  King  Glaucus,  and  grandson  of 
Glaucus  the  Hero, 

I  who  am  sprung  far  back  of  the  seed  of  Bel- 
lerophontes  — 

Hail,  Hymenseus,  thy  blessing  upon  the  daugh- 
ter of  Homer." 

Scarce  had  he  ended,  when  from  the  opposite 

side  of  the  chorus 
Stepped  forth  a  youth  of  the  West,  in  song  and 

in  love  his  great  rival. 
It  was  Demodocus,  son  of  Demodocus,  Ithacan 

rhapsode : 
**  I   too  sought  for  the  hand    of    the  beautiful 

daughter  of  Homer, 
From  this  isle   I  would  bear  her  away   to  the 

home  of  Ulysses, 
Whence  the  old  Greeks  our  fathers  once  came  to 

the  rescue  of  Helen. 
Great  was  the  deed   they  did,  the  deed  of  the 

Greeks,  our  fathers! 
Beautiful  Helen  again  I  would   rescue  in    fairest 

Praxilla, 
Coming   over   the   sea   from  my   home    to    the 

island  of  Chios. 
I  have  lost,  let  me  go,  I  now  shall  become  but   a 

swineherd. 
Son   unworthy    of    men   who   took   the   citadel 

Trojan. 


212  HOMEB  IN   CHIOS. 

Hail,  Hymenaeus,  thy  blessing  upon  the  daughter 
of  Homer." 


Forward  came  Sappho,  the  Lesbian  songstress, 

the  tenth  among  Muses, 
Grace  she  revealed  in  her  form  and  her  speech, 

the  fourth  among  Graces, 
Aye  tenth   Muse  of  the  Muses,  and  aye  fourth 

Grace  of  the  Graces, 
As  she  sang  to  the  pair  mid  the  sweet  low  tones 

of  her  cithern : 
**  Hail,   Hymenaeus,    hail !     make    happy   the 

bride  and  the  bridegroom  I 
May  the  souls  of  the  twain  be  one  thought,  the 

two  lives  be  one  living! 
Make  the  marriage  a  presence,  which  they  shall 

dwell  in  forever. 
May  the  love  of  to-day  be  also  the  love  of  to- 
morrow I 
You,  O  bride  and  bridegroom,  you  tool  would 

move  by  my  prayer; 
When  you  come  to  your  home  far  over  the  border 

of  Hellas, 
Sappho  forget  not,  who  was  the  first  to  join  you 

together. 
Making  the  love  of  your   hearts  to  flow  in  the 

strains  of  her  music. 
Taking  the  hands  of  you  both  into  hers  and  link- 
ing the  promise. 


THE  MABBIAGE.  213 

Daughter  of  Homer  and  son  of  the  Northland, 

remember  the  songstress, 
Sappho  the  Lesbian  singing  the  love  of  the  youth 

and  the  maiden, 
Hail,  Hymenseus  !  make  the   bond  of  the  lovers 

eternal!  " 

Soon  Typtodes  stepped  forth,  in  his  hand  were 

the  rolls  of  his  writing, 
Faithful  he  brought  the  work  of  his  life  as  his 

gift  at  the  nuptials. 
Though  the  beautiful  daughter  he  won  not  with 

all  of  his  wooing. 
But  he  hath  his  reward,  his  gift  shall  not  be  for- 
gotten. 
Gruffly  with  a  grimace  he  muttered :  Hail,  Hy- 

menseus ! 
Into  the  hand  of  the  poet   he   put   the   magical 

symbols. 
Then  he  withdrew  from  the  place  —  not  the  least 

was  the  schoolmaster's  present ; 
As  he  passed  out  of  sight,  he  flung  down  a  tear 

on  the  gravel ; 
Once  he  looked  back  at  his  rolls,  his  life-task, 

sad  at  the  parting. 

Then  spake  Homer,  giving  the  pair  his  last  bene- 
diction: 
'*  Here,  take  my  book,  now  writ  by  Typtodes  in 
letters  Phoenician, 


214  IIOMEIi  IN  CHIOS. 

Keep  it  and  let  it  still  grow,   one  seed   of  your 
future  existence. 

Showing  the  beautiful  world  of  the  Gods  which 
arose  in  our  Hellas, 

Showing  what  man  must  do  with  himself  to  build 
ujD  a  freeman." 
Then  spake  David,  giving  the  pair  his  last  ben- 
ediction : 

*'  Here,  take  my  book,  it  too  is  written  in  letters 
Phoenician, 

By   some   scribe  —  I   know  not  his  name  —  em- 
ployed in  my  household : 

Keep  it  and  let  it  still  grow,  one  seed  of  your 
future  existence. 

Showing  the  law  of  the  world  proclaimed  in  the 
land  of  Judea, 

Showing  the   God,  the   one   only  God,  and  his 
worship  in  spirit.'* 
So  to  the  Northland  they  took  the  two   books 
of  Homer  and  David, 

Oldest  and  newest,  twin  books  of  all  time,  the 
Greek  and  the  Hebrew, 

Lovingly  bore  them  afar  to  the  West,  the  home 
of  the  nations. 

Which  shall  kindle  the  light  in  their  hearts  and 
carry  it  further, 

Where  the  two  singers  of  Eld  shall  still  sing  daily 
their  wisdom, 

Voices  resounding  in  millions  of  echoes  from  let- 
ters Phcbuician, 


THE  MARRIAGE.  215 

Bringing  their  song  to  the  present  and  handing  it 

on  to  the  future. 
Ever   renewing   their   strains  in  the  soul  that  is 

ready  to  hear  them, 
Known  far  better  hereafter  than  ever  in  Greece 

or  Judea. 
Then  the  pair  set  out  —  Hesperion  son  of  the 

Northland, 
And  Praxilla,  fair  maiden  of  Hellas,  the  daughter 

of  Homer, 
Quitting  the  garden  where  grew  the  orange,  the 

fig  and  pomegranate, 
Where  the  hills  were  a  flutter  of  leaves  of  the 

silvery  olive. 
Soon  they  came  to  the  shore,  and  there  lay  the 

boat  of  the  bridal. 
Covered  with   branches  and  leaves,  and  decked 

with  the  flowers  of  Chios. 
Seamen  raised  up  the  mast  and  steadied  it  firmly 

with  mainstays. 
Then  they  spread  out  the  sails  to  the  wind  and 

took  the  direction. 
Oars   they   dipped   in  the  brine,  for  trial  made 

ready  the  rudder. 
And  the  God  sent  a  favoring  breeze  which  blew 

from  the  island, 
Yet   a  sigh  mid   the   joy  of   the  day  it  would 

whisper  in  snatches. 
**  Farewell  forever,  Praxilla  my  daughter  !  Fare- 
well Hesperion!'* 


216  HOMEB  IN  CHIOS. 

Light  ran  the  ship  as  it  cut  with  its  keel 
through  the  billowy  waters, 

Laughingly  sparkled  the  sea  in  the  stroke  of  the 
vigorous  oarsmen, 

Over  the  rise  and  the  fall  of  the  ripples  was  rock- 
ing the  vessel. 

Muffled  sang  the  great  deep,  upheaving  and  bear- 
ing its  burden. 

**  Farewell  forever,  O  Homer,  my  father!  Fare- 
well O  Hellas.'' 

From  the   shore   all   the  youths  of  the  school 

were  gazing  in  sorrow, 
Merrily   still  the  vessel  kept   dancing  away  o'er 

the  billow. 
That   was   the   last  day  of  school,  the  end  had 

come  of  their  training  ; 
Long   they   looked  at  the  boat  until  it  had  van- 
ished from  vision, 
Looked  in  the  blue  at  the  sail  till  lost  in  the  haze 

to  the  westward, 
Wondering  whither  it  went  and  whether  again 

they  would  see  it. 
When   the   small   white  speck   of  the  ship  had 

twinkled  to  nothing, 
Longing  the  scholars  turned  for  the  sight  and  the 

speech  of  the  poet. 
But   he   was  not  to  be  seen,  he  had  gone  to  his 

homo  with  King  David. 
Soon  they  too  had  dispersed,  each  went  his  own 

way  to  his  country. 


THE  MABBIAGE.  217 

Still  the  lovers  sailed  on  far  away  from  the  gar- 
dens of  Chios, 

Onward  they  went  in  their  joy,  behind  them  leav- 
ing the  islands, 

Over  the  deep  they  sailed  and  came  to  the  shore 
of  the  mainland. 

Quitting  the  ship  and  the  sea,  they  plunged  into 
forest  and  desert, 

Into  the  dangers  of  land  far  greater  than  perils 
of  water. 

Fleeting  across  the  wintery  border  of  beauti- 
ful Hellas, 

Where  it  stretches  beyond  the  abode  of  the  Gods 
on  Olympus, 

To  the  regions  where  drinking  their  whey  dwell 
the  mare-milking  Thracians, 

Over  the  hills  and  the  valleys  away  to  the  banks 
of  a  river, 

To  the  stream  that  is  bearing  the  flood  of  the 
wide-whirling  Istros, 

Still  beyond  and  beyond,  still  over  the  plain  and 
the  mountain, 

Over  vast  lands  to  the  seas,  and  over  the  seas  to 
the  lands  still. 

Through  the  icicled  forests,  through  the  tracts 
of  the  frost-fields, 

Still  beyond  and  beyond,  still  over  the  earth  and 
its  circles. 

Onward  they  passed,  the  daughter  of  Homer  and 
son  of  the  Northland  — 


218  HOMER  IN  CHIOS. 

Further  and  further  they  went,  till  they  came  to 

the  homes  of  his  people, 
Bringing  two  books  in  their  journey,  the  gifts  of 

David  and  Homer, 
Bringing  two  songs  of  the  sunrise  to  sing  to  the 

lands  of  the  sunset, 
Songs  still  singing  of  God  in   his  foresight   and 

Man  in  his  freedom. 
Where  the  huge  arms  of  the  breakers  are  smiting 

the  shores  of  the  Ocean, 
Ever  beyond  and  beyond  in  the  stretch  of  their 

strokes  they  are  striking. 
Striking  the  barrier  of  earth  in  the  stress  of  their 

strong  aspiration. 
Beating,  forever  repeating,  the  strokes  of  the  in- 
finite Ocean. 


Good-bye    to   Chios. 


Hearken,  0  Chios,  home  of  the  Homerids  bom  of 
thy  Homer, 
Who  still  dream  of  thine  isle  rocked  to  the  sway 
of  his  song. 
Though  on  the  world's  farther  half  they  be  tuning 
to  Homer  their  heart-strings. 
For  thy  sweet  rhythmical  mood  trills  now  to  me 
as  to  him. 
Radiant  verses  are  gleaming  like  f alshions  aloft  on 
the  summits, 
Mighty  heroical  lines  lighten  through  opaline 
skies. 
Heaving  hexameters  roll  from  the  rise  and  the  fall 
of  the  sea  swell. 
Tender  love  epigrams  lisp  cadences  low  in  be- 
tween. 
Plain  and  mountain  and  wave  are  a  garland  of 
splendor  majestic. 
Circling  the  head  of  old  Time  laid  on  this  sea's 
tender  lap ; 
Foliage,  herd,  and  ship  make  a  b'^e  of  a  musical 
measure 
Moving  with  harmonies  sweet  into  one  cast  of 
the  eye. 

(219) 


220  HOMER  IN   CHIOS 

0  the  transfusion  of  sound !  the  transfiguration  of 
vision ! 
Every  object  of  sense  flashes  to  letters  of  light ! 
Whitest  of  sculpture  is  cut  of  the  clouds  over- 
arching the  heavens, 
Which  in  a  gallery  high  rounds  the  firmament 's 
gold; 
There  all  the  Gods  are  seen  in  sunny  Olympian 
conclave, 
Glorious  epiphanies  sung  still  by  old   Homer, 
to  me. 
Brightest  of  scripture  is  writ  on  the  earth  with  a 
pencil  of  sunbeams, 
And  the  welken's  white  folds  drop  down  unroll- 
ing a  scroll; 
Many  a  line  of  the  poet  is  graved  on  the  burnished 
horizon, 
Words  of  the  Muse  built  of  stars  nightly  you 
read  in  the  sky, 
Strains  of  high  singers  flow  still  from  the  liquid 
Ionian  heavens, 
Out  of  each  fountain  are  heard  songs  set  with 
fancies  of  old. 
Weeds  and  thorns  and  brambles  are  hung  with 
emeralds  precious, 
Pebbles  begin  underfoot  suddenly  turning  to 
pearls ; 
Wisdom,  the  grave  old  sage,  is  diamonded  over 
and  over 
As  he  walks  through  the  grove,  bearing  the 
thought  of  the  world. 


EPILOGUE  221 

Sorrowful  Sipylus  yonder  is  looking  all  pain  to 
the  sculptor, 
Rising  to  statue  from  stone,  tragic  with  Niobe's 
tears ; 
Happy  Hymettus  transfuses  to  song  all  the  dew 
of  his  honey, 
As  he  sweeps  to  the  plain  from  the  clear  home 
of  the  Gods. 
Yet  this  Nature  is  but  the  outermost  garb  of  the 
poem. 
Which  the  body  doth  grace  hinting  the  glories 
within. 
Nobly  suggesting  the  soul  in  the  refluent  folds  of 
green  drapery, 
As  it  flowing  through  vales  rolls  to  the  tops  of 
the  hills. 
Only  look  up,  wherever  you  are,  you  see  the  fair 
temple 
Which    in    the    center    is    placed,    raying,  out 
hymns  from  its  crest : 
Fountain  perennial,  welling  adown  a  wee  Chian 
hillock. 
Thence  overflowing  Greek  heights  into  the  stream 
of  the  world ; 
Waves    it    is    sending    of    translucent    smiles    in 
eternal  processions, 
Thousands  of  years  it  has  filled  all  of  this  plain 
with  its  joy 
Up  to  the  mountainous  rim  that  lies  on  the  earth 
like  a  garland, 
And  embosoms  the  shrine  in  a  long  happy  caress. 


222  HOMER   IN   CHIOS 

See  the  fair  chorus  of  columns  now  dancing  around 
on  the  summit, 
The  full  joy  of  the  feast  flows  to  the  ends  of  the 
plain, 
Cincture  of  pillars  by  distance  becomes  a  gay  zone 
of  Greek  maidens. 
Festively  dressed  in  white  folds,  reaching  each 
other  the  hand. 
Speaking  afar  to  the  wayfarer  lonely  evangels  of 
beauty, 
Moving  to  measures  of  song  under  melodious 
skies. 
Thither,  O  wanderer,  haste  from  the  vale,  from 
the  mountain  most  distant. 
Haste  on  the  wings  of  the  ship  over  the  bond- 
breaking  seas. 
Aught  is  reaching  for  thee  far  out  of  the  heart  of 
this  Hellas, 
Fair  as  the  youth  of  the  world,  wise  as  the  old 
age  of  Time, 
Drawing  thee  up  her   Acropolis  borne   in  fleet 
kisses  of  sunbeams, 
Till  thou  art  set  on  its  top  radiant  with  poesy's 
sheen. 
Hark  now  the  Homerid  new  attuning  hexametral 
glories. 
How   he   dares   in   his  strains   Homer's   high 
daughter  to  woo. 


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IN  STACKS 

MAY    51958 


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REC'D  LD 

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